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Full text of "The works of the English poets, from Chaucer to Cowper;"

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THE ( [ 

WORKS 

OFTBB 



ENGLISH POETS, 

FROM CHAUCER TO COW PER} 



INCLDDINO TRB 



SERIES EDITED, 



WITH 



PREFACES, BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL, 

BY DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON: 

AND 

THE MOST APPROVED TRANSLATIONS. 



TBK 

ADDITIONAL LIVES 

BY ALEXANDER CHALMERS, F.S.A. 



IN TWENTY-ONE VOLUMES. 
VOL. XVIIL 



COTTON, 

LOGAN, 

T. WARTON, 

J. WABTON, 

BLACKLOCK, 



CAMBRTDOK, 

MASON, 

JONES, 

BBATTIE, 

COWPER. 



LONDON: 

nnnMD fOR J. JOHNSONi J. NICHOU and son ; B. BALDWIN i F. AND C RIVINGTON : W. OTRIDOE AND SON ; 
LENa AND SOTHBBY: R. FAULDER AND SON; O. NICOL AND SON; T. pAYNE; O. ROBINSON | WILKIE AND 
ROROnON ; C, DATIBS ; T. EOERTON ; 8CATCHERD AND LETTERMAN i >. WALKER ; VERNOR, HOOD, AND SHARPE ; 
R. LEA; J. HUMN ; LACKINGTON. ALLEN, AND CO. ; J. STOCKDALE; CmHELL AND MARTIN; CLARKE AND SONS; 
J. WHITE AND CO. ; LONGMAN, HURST, REQ, AND ORME ; CADELL AND DAVIES ; J. BARKER ; JOHN RICHARDSON ; 
J. H. RICBA&D80N ; J. CARPENTER ; B. CROSBY ; E. JBFFERY ; J. MURRAY ; W. MILLER ; J. AND A. ARCH ; BLACK, 
FARRT. AND KING8BCRY ; J. BOOKER; S. BAOSTER; J. HARDING; J. MACKINLAY; J. HATCHARD; Rj H. EVANS^ 
HATTHEWl AND LEIGH ; J. MAWMAN ; J. BOOTH i J. ASPERNE ; P. AND W..^YNN< ; AND W. GKACEl DEIGHTON 
AVD SON AT CAMBRIDGE, AND WILSON AND SON AT YORK. 



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CONTENTS. 



VOL. XVHL 



POEMS OF COTTON. 



TPage 

HE Author*! Life, by Mr. Chalmers ...... 3 

FABlia. 

I. The Bee, the Ant» and the Sparrow 9 

IL The Scholar and the Cat 10 

in. Neptase and the Mariners 11 

IV. The Beaa and the Viper ib. 

V. The Snail and the Gardener 12 

VI. The Fanner and the Horse 13 

TALES. 

The lamb and the Pig 15 

Deith and the Rake. A Dutch Tale ib. 

OD8S OP BOKACt. 

7W second Ode of the aecood Book. Inscribed 

toT. V.Eaq. 16 

Tbe tenth Ode of the second Book 17 

DtTAFBS. 

Oa Robert Oarering, M. B ib. 

Os Colooel €lanfiner, who was slain in tbe 

Battle at Preston Pans, 1745 ib. 

oOoMr.Siblcy, of Stodham ib. 

*> Ob a Lady who hand laboured under a Cancer, ib. 

Taaiocs pticis. 

Ab laTocation of Happiness* After the onen* 

tal Manner of Speech < ib. 

Time 18 

AiEaifma. Inscribed to Miss P. ib. 

TbsFnside 19 

To some Children listening to a Lark ib. 

To a Child of 6ve Years old 20 

9)i Lord Cobham's Garden ib. 

-^Tolfonov ib. 

' * Aa Attaskm to Horace, Ode xri. Book ii. la- 

• Knbed to H. W. Esq. ib. 

Aa Epitaph upon Mr. Thomas Strong, who 

<fied OB the 95th of December, 1736 21 

Cpitaph npon Bfiss Gee, who died October,. 25, 

1736, «tst. 48 22 



Pag*" 

Four Rebuses 2«^ 

Some hasty lines on Sleep ib. 

A Rebus ib. 

Song. — ^Tell me, my Coelia, why so coy ib. 

A Sunday Hjrmn, in Imitation of.Dr. Watts .. 23 

An Ode on the Messiah ib. 

An Ode on the new Year ib. 

Epitaph on Jobn Duke of Bridgwater, who 

died in the twenty-first Year of hit Age, 

1747-8 ib. 

A Fable 24 

Addressed to a young Lady, whose fatourite 

Bird was almost killed by a FaU from her 

Finger 25 

Riddle on a knitting Needle ib. 

Riddle on a Needle ib. 

Another on Cotton 26 

Another on a Needle-book ib. 

Psalm ziii ib. 

Psaim xlii ib. 

The Night- Piece 27 

To the rev. James Hervey, on his Meditations, 

by a Physician ib; 

Lines under a Snn-Dial in the Church- Yard 

atThomby 28 

To the Memory of the rev. Mr. Samuel Clark, 

who died December the 26th, 1769, aged 42. ib; 

VISIONS IN VSItSB FOB TUB BNTBRTAINMBMT AND IN- 
STBUCTXON OP TOUNOSB MINM. 

Epistle to the Reader ib. 

Vision L Slander 29 

U. Pleasure 31 

IIL Health 32 

IV. Content 34 

V. Happiness 35 

VI Friendship 37 

VIL Marriage , 39 

VIII. Life 41 

Vision the last. Death ,^. 4f 

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CONTENTS. 



POEMS OF LOGAN. 



Pare 

The Author*! tife, by Mr. CbabneiB 49 

Ode to the Cuckoo 53 

Songr.— The Braesof Yarrov ib. 

Ode on the Death of a yooDg Lady 54 

Ode to Women ih. 

OiiiaD*s Hymn to the Sun 55 

Ode written hi Spring ib. 

Song. — ^The day is departed, and ronnd from 

the cloud 56 

Ode to Sleep ib. 

Ode to a young Lady ib. 

Ode to a Man of Letters 57 

The Lovers 58 

A Tale 59 

Monimia: anOde 62 

Ode written in a Visit to the Country in Au- 
tumn 63 

BTMMi. 

f. The Prayer of Jacob 64 

n. The Complaint of Nature ib. 



IIL Trust in Providence « 65 

IV. Heavenly Wisdom ib. 

V. Behold! the mountain of the Lord ... ib. 

VL Behold! th* Ambassador divine ib. 

VII. Messiah at thy glad approach 66 

VI H. When Jesus by the Virgin brought ... ib. 

IX. Where high the heavenly temple stands, ib. 

rOIMS ATrailOTKO TO LOOAN. 

Damon, Menalcas, and Mel iboens : an Eclogue. 67 

Pastoral Song. In May when the gowans ap- 
pear on the green 68 

Ode : to a Fountnin ib. 

Danish Ode ib. 

Anacreontic to a Wasp 69 

Tbe Episode of Levina, from Bruce*s Poem of 

Locbleven 70 

Ode: to Paoli 72 



POEMS OF T. JVARTOK 



the Author** life^ by Bir. Chalmers 75 

IflSCStlAKlOVS PIBCtS. 

Tbe Triumph of Isis, occasioned by Isis, an 
Blegy. (Written in 1 749, the Author's Slst 
Year 89 

Elegy on the Death of the late Frederic Prince 
of Wales. (Written in 1751.) 91 

On the Death of King George the Second. 
To Mr. Secretary Pitt (Written in 1761.) ib. 

On the Marriage of the ^og. (Written in 
1761.) To her Majesty 92 

On the Birth of the Prince of Wales. (Written 
after the InsUllation at Windsor^ in the 
same Year, 1762.) 95 

Verses on Sir Joshua Reynolds's painted Win- 
dow, at New College, Oxford. (Written in . 
1782.) « *4 

Monody, written near Stratford upon Avon. 
(Published in the Edition of 1777.) 95 

Tbe Pleasure of Melancholy. (Written in 
1745, the Author's seventeenth Year, pub- 
lished anonymously in 1747.) ib. 

INSCRIFTfOKfl. 

Inscription in a Hermitage. At Ansley Hall 

in Warwickshire 97 

Inscribed on a beautiful Grotto near the Water. 98 

Inscriptioo over a calm and clear Spring in 

Blenheimr Gardens ib. 

Epitaph on Mr. Head... ib. 

•MUHSLAtlOm iMD PAlAPinUitt. 

Job, Chapter xxxix. (Published in 1'750, in 
the Student.) *. « ib. 



A Pastoral in (he Manner of Spenser. From 
Theocritus, IdylLxx. 99 

From Horace, Book iii. Od. ziii Hb. 

Horace, Book iii. Od. i^ii. After the Man- 
ner c^ Bfilton ib. 

onss. 

L To Sleep 100 

II< The Haml^ Written m Whichwood 

Forest ib. 

in. Written at Vale-Royal Abbey in Ches- 

hire ib. 

IV. Solitude at an Ion .' 101 

V. Sent to Mr. Upton on his Edition of 

the Faerie Queene ib. 

Vt. The Suicide 102 

Vn. Sent to a Friend on his leaving a fa- 
vourite Village in Hampshire 103 

VIII. Morning. The Author confined to 

Oollege ib. 

IX. The Complaint of Cherweli 104 

X. The First of April ib. 

XI. On the Approach of Summer ...^ 105 

XII. Tbe Crusade 108 

Xllf. The Grave of Kmg Arthur 109 

XIV. Ode for Music HI 

XV. On his Majesty's Birth-Day, June 4th,. 

1785 113 

XVI. For the new Year, 1786 ib. 

XVIL For his Majesty's Birth-Day, June 

4th. 1786 114 

XVni. Forthenew Year, 1787 ib. 

XIX. On his Majesty's Birth-Day, June 

4th. 1787 115 

XX. For the new YeaBrl788^.^i.^ ib. 

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CONTENTg. 



Fate 

XXI. On his Majesty*! Birth-Day, Jane 

4th, 1789 1,6 

XXIL For his M^esty's Birth-Day, Jane 

♦tM'rsp : ,17 

Xnn. For his Majesty's BirthDay, June 

4th, 1790 ....:. ib. 



somaTt. 

I Written At WiosUdein Hampshire 

II. On Bathing .„ ^ 

IlL Written in a blank Leaf of Dugdale's 
Monastlcon 

IV. Written at Stonehenge ,„ 

V. Written after seeing Wilton Bbuse 

VL To Mr.Oray 7. 

VIL While sammer suns o'er 4he gay pros- 
pect play'd L.S..,.. 

VTIL On King Arthur's round Table, at Win- 



iX. To the River Lodon . 



US 
ib. 

ib. 

119 

ib. 

ib. 

ib. 

ib. 
ib. 



lATniOU. AND HUlKMOVt mOIS. 

^Vevmarket, a Satire ^. i^ 

IWogue on the old Winchester Playhouse 

Of er the Botcher'tf Shambles 1^1 

A Pttegyric on Oxibfd Ale 122 

Tbe Progress of Discontent 123 

Tke Phaeton, and the One-Hone Chair 124 

We to a Grizzle Wig by a Gentleman who 

hsd joit left offhis Bob ,25 

The Otttle Baiber^ Soliloquy. Written in 

the late War Z?. ib. 

1^ Oifotd Newsoian*s Verses , 1<6 

RttMATA BSXAMKTaA. 

Kas Gatharinse, prope Wintoniam 127 

Ssccnaffl Con. SS. Trin. Oxon. Instanntum, 
«e ^,, ,28 

b Obitnm cdsiasiaii et dasidenitittimi Ftade. 
nei,PHncfpisWalli»,(I751.) 129 



PifB 
ntOMAMUATA. 

fn Horto Script. 130 

Epitapbinm ....< ib. 

Apud Hortum Jucundinimum Wintonis 131 

/Qui fit, Mieceuas, &c ib, 

Gneca atque Anglica quodam Latino Red- 

diU ^ ib, 

Homeri Hymnus ad Pana iU 

Bs Poemate de Voluptatibus Facultatlhus 

iDu'ginatricis ib. 

Ex Poemate de Ratione Salutis consenrandsB • 132 
Pindari Pythionic. I. Hieroni Sinseo Syracu* 

sio Curro Vict. ib. 

Ex Euripidis Androinacha •••.... ib. 

Meleagri ^itaphium in Uxoram 133 

Antipatri Thessabnic In Temperantiam ... ib. 

Garphilidse ib. 

Callimacbi in Crethida ib. 

Incerti in Chio ib. 

I^aidc , ib. 

In Tumulum Archilochi ib. 

Incerti in Cicadam ........ ib. 

Antipatri ThessaUmicensis «. .,... 134 

Caliinsachi in Heraelitum ...,^ ib. 

ABornoHs TO wabtqm's rovMs. 
A Song. ImiUted from tiM Midsummer 
Nights Dream of Shakspeare, Act ii. Scene 

▼ ib. 

Verses on Miss Cotes ib. 

Verses on Miss Wilmot ib. 

The Maiden's bloody Garland, or High Street 

T^ge^y 135 

Five Pastoral Eclogues, the Scenes of which 
are supposed to lie among the Sh^erds, 
oppressed by the War in Germany. 

Eclogue I. Lyeas and Alphon 136 

II. Acis and Alcyon 137 

HI. When sable midnight on the 

fields and woods 138 

IV. Mycon and Philanthes 139 

V. Corin and Calistan > }40 



POEMS OF J. WARTON. 



1W Author's Li^t>y Mr. Chalmers 145 

comssmiAToaT ▼sasBs. 
h Clitiim Viri Rererendi Jose]dii Warton, 

S>T. P. |bc TwtMtk from Mr. Wool*s Me- 

■«" ; 155 

"^written and spoken by Mr. Lipscomb, 

Nlov frf New Collie, then a Praepostor of 

^ Wnc fc uu School 156 

^^"■■iam OB Josqrfi Wailon. Prom Mant's 

vwHStohisMMiiory ib. 

%|hB^ Adriob Written whan at Winches- 

•■School , ^. 159 

'■» mfh rn i as t ; or the Lover of Nature. 

J5|*» ■ 1^40 ib. 

J<Mi: aSatife 161 

fel«?^.::=::::::;:::::- 



I 



Ode to Health. Written on a Recovery fh)m 

the Small-Pox ,^ 

Ode to Superatition ..!.*.!.*!..,*!!* 165 

Ode to a Gentleman on his Travels .....'.'*'*"' ib. 

Ode to Liberty 7 166 

Ode against Deqiair ..V.*..*."' ib. 

Ode on Shooting ,,^,^ 157 

To a FoonUin. ImiUted from Horace! Ode 

xiii. Book iii ju 

Ode to Evening , ,. n/ 

Ode to Content !!.!!!!!" ib. 

Ode to the Nightingale ...V.....! 168 

Ode to a Udy on the Spring jb 

Ode to a Lady who hates the Country ib! 

OdetoSoUtude |Jj 

Ode to Mr. West on his Translation of Pindar! 169 
Stansas on taking the Air after a long Illness, ib. 
Verses written at MonUuban in France, 1750. 170 



▼in CONTENTS. 

rage 

Ttt« Oyuiiif tndiciti 170 

ltrr<*jji;e ol America ib. 

Ftij*-Ie hfitn IT^ouias fiearne, Antiqaary, to 
tiit^ Aul^Eor of tbe Gompanion to the Oxfbrd 

^J'*k|i5 .* ,* ,,..,. ib. 

From -^^lak^pearE'fl Tirelfth Kigbt...; 171 

Orfr to Mjsic ib. 

lines, writLun extempore on seeing some Sol- 
diers at Wickham, who were going to form 
a Settlement jnear S^egambia ,.'....... ib. 



Verses on Dr. Biirtdi's Death Hi 

Verses, spoken to the King by Lord Shafkes- 

borf • • ••• « i^' 

To Mr. Seward, on his Verses to Lady Young, ib. 
Answer. By W. F. Esq. To Dr. Wartoti ..« iK 
On not being able to write Verses to Delia ... 17^ 

Ode.— O gentle feather-footed sleep ib. 

Verses written on passing through Hackwood 

Park, Aug. 7, 1779 ib. 

Ode oiHlM Death of his Father ib. 



POEMS OF BLACKLOCK. 



tlie Aathor's Life, by Mr. Chalmers 175 

COMMBNSATORY TEESBS. 

To Mr* Thomas Blacklock. By Richard 
Hewitt 181 

An Epistle from Dr. Beattie to the Rev. Mr. 
Thbmas Blacklock ».... ib. 

Horace, Ode i. imitated. Inscribed to Dr. 
John SterensoQ, Physician in Edinburgh ... 183 

Psalm i. Imitated 484 

An Hymn to the Supreme Being. In Imita- 
tion of the civth Psalm ib. 

Psalm cxxxix. Imitated 185 

An Hymn to Divine Love. In Imitation of 
Spenser ... 186 

An Hymn to Benevolence 187 

An Hymn to fortitude ib. 

The Wish satisfied, an irregular Odt 1 89 

An Ode to Happiness ib. 

On Bvanthe's Absence. An Ode 190 

An Ode to a young Gentleman bound for 
Gainea ib. 

An irregular Ode, sent to a Lady on her Mar- 
riage-Day * 191 

To a Coquette. An Ode ib. 

An Ode on the Refinements in Metaphysical 
Philosophy :. 192 

An Ode to Mrs. R. on the Death of a promis- 
ing Infant ; 193 

An Ode. Written when sick 194 

An Ode to Health ib. 

To a little girl whom I had offended : an Ode. 
Written at twelve Years of Age ib. 

To Lesbia. Translated from Catullus ib. 

Translation of an old Scottish Song 195 

Song. — To the Tane of ** The Braes of Bal- 
lendync'» ib. 

The ravished Shepherd. A Song ib. 

Pastoral Song. — Sandy the gay, the blooming 
swain - ib. 

A Pftstoral on the Death of Stella. Inscribed 
to her Sister 196 

APastorah Inscribed to Evanihe 197 

A pastofal Eleg^. The plain^e Shepherd... 198 

Doiderium Lutitic : from Buchanan, an al- 
legorical Pastoral, in which he regrets hb 
Absence from Paris, imitated ib. 

Philanthes: a Monody. Inscribed to Miss 
D— y H— y 200 

The Wish: an Elegy. T6 Urania 90S 



On the Death of Mr. Pope. An Elegy 203 

Elegy to the MemcMry of Ooostantia 205 

A Soliloquy : occasioned by the Author's Es- 
cape from Calling inio a deep WcU ......... 206 

Miss- 



The Author's Answer ib. 

Epistle I. To the same From Edinburgh ... ib. 
II. ToDorinda: with Venice Preserv*d. 210 
III. To Miss Anne Rae : with the Ma- 
nual of Epictetus, and Tablature 
of Cebes ib. 

To Miss D. H. in Answer to a I^ter she wrote 
the Author from Dumfries iJb. 

To Miss A. H. on her Marriage ^ ib. 

To the reverend Mr. Jameson 21 1 

An Epitaph, on his Father..... ib. 

To Mrs. Anne Blackkick, the Author's Mother. 
With a Copy of the Scotch Edition of his 
Poems ,.... ib. 

Prologue to Othello : spoken by Mr. Love, at 
the Opening of the Play-House in Dumfries. tl2 

Prologue to Hamlet : spoken by Mr. Love^ at ' 
Dumfries ib. 

An Epigram : to a Gentleman, who asked my 
sentiments of him ib. 

An Epigram: on Punch ib. 

An Epigram : on Marriage ib. 

An Epigram. On the same 215 

An Epitaph, on a favourite Lap-Dog ib. 

The Author's Picture ib. 

Advice to the Ladies. A Satire ^ ib. 

Horace, Ode xiii. Book i. Imitated 216 

An Elegy to a Lady; with Hammond's Elegies* ib. 

Ode to Amynta ib. 

An Elegy. Inscribed to C— S— Esq. 217 

To John M'Laurin, Esq. (now Lord Dreghoni, 
one of the Senators of the College of Jus- 
tice.) With the Author's Poems ...*. ib. 

Extempore Verses, spoken at the Desire of a 
Gentleman 218 

To the reverend Mr. Speoce, late Profesicir of 
Poetry at Oxford. Written at Dumfries in 
the Year 1759..... ib. 

To Dr. BeaUie. With the Author's Poems... ib. 

To the rev. Dr. Ogilvie ib. 

To a Friend of whose Health and Success the 
Author had heard, after a long Absence ... 219 

The Genealogy of Nonsense ...« ib. 

Ode, on MeliflBa*s Birth Day ^20 

Ode to Aurora. On Melissa's Birth-Day...... ib. 



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CONTENTS. 



ToOr. Eviafe 220 

Yb Mr. DtiUsd, PiofeaMH* of Ofeek in the Uni- 

vwBtyorEdiBburgh 281 

ToDr.DovniMui, in London ib. 

TnhetAOM 222 

ToMofiM. Written in the Yesr,lf9() ib. 



IX 

P«gt 
OnSr.BlmcklodL'sBtrOi-Day. By Mri. Black- 
lock 225 

From Dr. I>owQiDan to Mrs. Blacklock. Oc- 
caponed by a Copy of Verses she addressed 

to ber Husband ^ ib. 

Prom Dr. Dowoman to Dr. Blacklock ib^ 



POEMS OF CAMBRIDGE. 



ib. 



240 



1WABthQr*ftIile,byMr.Cbaloien 22*7 

€b tke Ifafriage oC his Royal Highness Fre- 

• dOTicFrinee of Wales 235 

JLeaniaf : a Dialogue betveen Dick and Ned» 
(tke Author, and Dr. Edward Barnard, af- 

tanraHfPnmiatof Eton) 236 

8oei«ly S addr—ed to Edward Berkley, Esq. . 239 
Tnbarcni a Trie. Add r e s w d to J. H. Browne, 
~ r of the " Pipe of Tobacco,*' in 

I of six aereral Authors 

^ ; a Foem, written in Imitation of 
ir, aad descriptire of the Author and 

fBOr of Ma Boat's Crew 

An Apok^gy f>r writing Veise; add re ssed to 

tfaehoMondileCharleaYorke :... 242 

To Watiaa Whitehead, Esq. (In Answer to an 

Epistle to the Anthor inserted in bis Life).. 243 
Ts Lofd Batbnrst. Imitation of Horace, Lib. 

ii.OdezT. ib. 

The Dingfi of writing Verse ; a Dialogue be- 
tween a yonng Poet and his Friend. Ad- 
drevedto SrCharies Hanbnry Willams,Knt. 244 
A Dialogne bet w een Lord Ducie and his Horse ib. 
TheAathortotheScribleriad. lni.Hor.£pis.20« 
jne Scfwrfenad: 

PieCice ..M 

iL 

II 

Ill 

IV. 

V. 

▼L 



245 



246 
250 
255 
261 
266 
272 
278 



A IXaloswe b a t a em a Mendier of Pariiament 
and hb Servant, in tositation of the sereoth 
Satire of tlMseooad Book of Horace 282 

tW latrwder. b iaritation ef Horace, Book i. 
Sstilwix. 285 

Ihe fable of Jotham: to the Borough Hunters 288 

TWMbeer. A Tale ib. 

flsgy written in an empty Assembly Room... 290 

A Oiakifwe batwcen a diiappointed Candidate 
mi hss Priewl ib. 

^Msta oo ca sion e d by the Marriage and Game 
Aet; both passed the same Session 291 

Qb the apftomta^snt of Lord Temple to be 
int Lard of the Admiralty. A Parody of 
ApoBo*s Speech to Phaeton ib. 

ApMt faeonitaacy; addressed to the Earl 
rf 292 

lb lb. Whitehead, oa his being made Poet 



ib. 
spoken at Dmry Lane Theatre by 
^ Pope in the cbaraotarof Miss NoUbl^ 

m the Lady's Last 8tak« 293 

Bpiione spoken at Drury Una Theatre by 
rSuXVllK 



Miss Pritchard, in the Character of Maria, 

m the Tamer Tamed 293 

A Dialogne between Sir Richard Lyttleton and 
theThamet. In imitation of Horace, B.3.C)de9. 294 

To Oxias HojDphry, Esq ib. 

Mr. Wilkes's Soliloquy, the Day before his 
Election for Cbamberlaiu of London. A 
Parody of Cesar's Speech in the Boat. 
Lucan's Phantalia, lib. 5. 1. 559 295 

On Painting. Addressed to Mr. Patch, a cele< 
brated Picture Cleaner ib. 

On seeing the Head of Sir Isaac Newton, richly 
gilt and placed by a celebrated Optician 
upon the Top of a certaiu Temple in~s-«onr 
spicnoos Part of his Garden on Richmond^ -^ 
Hill 296 

To a Lady who was Tery handsome, and had 
asked the Author his Opinion of the Witch 
of Eodor ib. 

A parody of Achilles* Speech. Pope's Homer, 
Book i. line 309 ..* 297 

A Parody on Death and the Lady : in a Dia- 
logue between Lord North and Lord Sand- 
wich ib. 

An Inritation to a Ball at Lady Cooper's : writ- 
ten by Sir Grey Cooper 298 

Answer ib. 

The Progress of Liberty ib. 

On settng this Motto to a French Paper : Duke 
et d«>coram est pro Patria mori 299 

To a Frieod who was a great Astronomer, re- 
commending the Bearer as a' proper Person 
to take Care of his Cows ib. 

A free Translation of Boileau ; Epist i. L. 61. 
applied to the immoderate Ambition of France ib. 



M Cinerem aut Manes credts curare sepnltos. 300 

On meeting, at Mr. Oarrick'*s, an Anthor very 
shabbUy dressed in an old velvet Waistcoat, 
on which he had sewed Embroidery of a 
later Date ib. 

Quin*s Death ib. 

Acteon no Cuckold ib. 

Imitation of Sbakspeare ib. 

The Historian in Love : an Impromptu, on see- 
ing his Daughter reading the Life of Mr. 
Gibbon, just after she had been assisting 
Lady Newdigate in a Charity for distressed 
Ribbon Weavers ib. 

Occasioned by the Conduct of the French to- 
wards the Pope in the Year, 1794 ib. 

On secnng a decent looking young Woman 
come down a Staircase in Clement's Inn : 
a Parody of Jane Shore's Speech ib. 

To a yonng Friend, who complained of one 



COKTEXm* 



Pace 
ItelatioD vbD gave lateBveakfatU on accoaot 
of long Prayers, Bud of anoth«r who gave 
bad Dinnera 301 

lioef given extempore to Doctor Moasey^Ptiy- 
itcian to Chelsea Hospital, upon bis expres- 
sing Surprise that the Scribleriad was not 
more known and talked of ib. 

Translation of some French lines ib. 

A note to the Author ib 

His Answer ih. 

On seeing aTapestry Chair-bottom beautifully 
vorked by bis Baughter for Hrs. Holroyd . ib. 



A translatkn of a Greek Kp>gf«m in tke Etm 
Collection ..«.- SOI 

tnSES ASDRBSSSD AT TASIOUt TIMES TO 1. O. C4M- 
BSIDUIyBSQ. 

By tfcnry Berkley, taq.,.. • »^ 

Verses left on a PeaesUl, beoettli a Bow of 

Eims in Mr. Cambridge's Gsodnds, 1760 ... 301 
From George Birch, Em). on receiring a Letter 
from Mr.Cambridge in Jamary 1789 firanked 
by George Selwya »>..- 301 



POEMS OF MASON. 



The Anthor'h Life, by Mr. Chalmert ^...^ 307 

COMMmDATOaT TIfttBS. 

Elegy to the Memory of the rev, Wiiram 
Mason. By Thomas Gitboroe M. A 319 

Epitaph on the rev. William Mason 3^0 

Sonnet to Robert Earl of Uoldemesse, Baron 
D'Arcy, Menil and Conyers, Lord Warden 
of his Majcaty^s Ckiqiie PorU, and Governor 
of Dover CasUe - 391 

MusKus : a Monody to the Memory of Mr. 
Pope. In ImiUtion of Milton'k Lycidas ... 393 

Isis. A Monologue 325 

ODES. 

L For Music - 3«6 

II. For Music 3«7 

III. To Memory ....*• 398 

IV. To a Water Nymph ib. 

V. To an Bolus's Harp sent to Miss Shep- 

heard 32f 

VI. To Independency ib. 

VII. Ah! cease this kind persoasive Strain... 330 

VIII On the Fate of Tyranny 331 

IX. To the navsl Officeraof Great BriUia... 339 

X. To the bODOnrable William put 333 

XI. Secular ^. ib. 

XLICIES. 

I. To a young Kobleman leaving the Uni- 

▼er«ty 534 

ft Written in the Garden of a Friend 335 

III. Tb the rev. Mr. Hnrd ^ 336 

IV. On the Death of a Lady ib. 

KnTArHi# 
On Mrs. Mmcm, m the Ca^edral of Bristol... 337 
On Miss Drmnmond, in tbeChnrch of Brods- 

worth, Yorkshire ' ib. 

On John Dealtry, M. B. m the Cathedral of 

York 338 



On Mrs. Tattoo, in the Church of Withenshaw 
in Cheshire 33| 

On Mr. Gray in Westminster Abbey. ..,...«.. ib. 

Inscription on a Pedestal near an Oak at None- 
ham in Osfordshire,dedicaied to the Memory 
of William Whitehead, Esq. Poet Laureat. ib. 

Hymn for York Cathedral lb. 

mAKMlC VOCMS. 

Elfrida. Writtea on the Model of the ancienC 

Greek Tragedy 3*1 

Letters prefixed to the former Editions of this 

Poem*^ ^ 338 

Ckractacos. Written on the Model cf the 

ancient Greek Tragedy 357 

The English Garden. 

Book I 379 

IT ^.^ 385 

III 387 

IV 392 

The Art of Painting of Charies Alphonse Da 

Firesnoy. Translated into English Verse .^ 597 

Epistle to Sir Joshna Reynolds *.. ib. 

Preface «>• 

The Ufeof Mom. Du Fresnoy 399 

An heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers, 

Knight 410 

An heroic Epistle to the Public, occasioned by 

their fiivourable Reception of a late heroic 

Epistle to Sir William Chambers. 5cc 415 

Ode to Mr. Pinchbeck, on his newly invented 

Patent Candle-snuffers 414 

An Epistle to Dr. Shebbeare 416 

Ode to Sir Fletcher Norton, in Imitation of 

Horace, Ode viii. Book iv 419 

The Dean and the Sqnire : a political F.clogue 

humbly dedicated to Soame Jenyos, Eaq. .,. 428 • 



POEMS OF JONES. 



The Aatbor's Life, by Mr. Chilmcrs 497 

Tt^fB^ **1 

Advertisement 443 

ImiUtion of Horace, Ode xiv. lib. i'u wrHteo 
at fonrtaan Years of Aga 445 



Arcadia, a pa4(toral Poem 445 

Caissa; or the Game of Chess ...r 450 

Thft seven Fountains: an Eastern Allegory ... 453 

Sohma: an Arabian Eclogue 457 

La«ra, an Elogy from P«bE|m:b.....| 458 

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CONTENTS. 



xl 



Wvmm §or m Vete Cbmspttrt in Wales 460 

OiMciiif Mist*** ride by him, vithoalkoow* 

kyber .*. ^ ib. 

To Lady Jooet, firom tbe Arabic.... » «• 461 

FiOBi the Peniao Poem of Hatifi, in the Mea- 

lore of the Original ib. 

Ectempore Opinioo on natWe Talent, the An- 

ivar to Linea fron a Friend ib. 

Written after the Perusal of the eighth Seram 

ofBamm , 46« 

Tbt oondadii^ Sentence of Berkley's Siris, 

ib. 



Aa Epode frotn a Choms in the uoBoithed 

Tnfedy of Sohrab ib. 

Ei Pndosh Poete Pertici Poemate Herotco. > . lb. 

Bcfia Arabk» 463 

Adlfasaai ib. 



Ab Ode of Fetrareb, to the fimntain of Val- 
ctMsa. ib. 

If de Voltaire's Paimphrase of the first SUnza, 
Chiaie fresche, e doici acque 464 

AaOdeof Jami, io the Persian Form and Mea- 
fore 465 

TV Mnse recalled ; an Ode on the Nuptials 
of Lord Viecoant Althorp, and Miss Lavioia 
Kngham, eldest Dao^hter of Charles, Lord 
Lacaa, Martrh 6. 178] ib. 

Ode inladiatian of Alciras 466 

Aa Ode in imitation of Callistratus 467 

Tbeifst NeoMan Odeof Pindar ib. 

A Chiaese Ode paraphraaed 468 

AToitithOdaof Mesihi ib. 

Tbe same, in Imitation of the Perriligiam 
Vflaeris 469 



cAamwuii tnia. 

L OdeSinica 

n. OdePersica 



470 
iU 



III. Altera 470 

IV. Ode Arabica. Ad Pabnilnm ib* 

v. Adijriium 471 

VL Ad Lnnam -. : ib. 

VII. Ad Venerem ib. 

VIII. AdFAndem ib. 

Ad Libertatem Carmen 472 

HYMNS. 

Hymn to Camdes 473 

Two Hymns to Pracriti. 

The Hymn to Durga * 476 

The Hymn to Bbovani 478 

AHymntolndra ib.' 

A Hymn to Surya 480 

A Hymo to Lacshmt 482 

A Hymn to Narayeoa 485 

A Hymn to Sereswaty '.....* 486 

AHymntoGaoga 488 



The Palace of Fortnne, an Indian Tale 491 

Tbe Enchanted Fruit; or, tbe Hindu Wife. 

An antediluvian Tale 495 

Fabula Persica 500 

SONGS AND BALLADS. 

A Persian Song of Hafiz .. ib. 

A song ftx>m the Persian, paraphrased in tlie 

Measure of the Original 501 

Plassey-plain. A Ballad addressed to Lady 

Jones by her Husband ib. 

A u Firmament ib. 

BSSATS. 

1. On the Poetry of the F^stem Nations .... 50? 
11. On the Arts, commonly called ImitatiTe... ^08 



POEMS OF BE ATT IE. 



TW Aatkoi*s life^ by Mr. Chalmers.. 

IkSatioa 

Origioal Freeze to tbe Edition 1760.. 



Oieto 

TWtrioaph of Melaacholy 

Bpitsph on *— — * Escaped the gloom 

of OMTtal life, a sool 

Epiliph^— To thia grareis committed 

Defy— Tir'd with tbe busy crowds, that all 

tie day 

Seog in Imitation of Sbakftpeare*s Blow, bhw^ 

im mhUer wimd 3tc 



Ekgy^-^Still diaU onthinking man substantial 



OieloHope....._ 

L Pfpaao-Gerano-^achio : the Battle of the 
w Pypaues and Cranes. From the Latin of 
r A4diMNi - 

niHaret A FaWa 



515 
535 
537 
558 
5'J9 
540 

542 
ib. 

ib. 

543 
ib. 

5U 
545 



546 
547 



Epitaph : being Part of an Inscription for a 
Monument to be erected by a Ocntlcuian 
to the Memory of his Lady 549 

Ode on Lord H*«'s Birth-day ib. 

To the right hon. Lady CharlotteOor(1wD,dre<>sed 
in a Tartan Scotch Bonnet, with Piuices &o. 550 

The Hermit ib. 

On the Report of a Monnment to be erected 
in Westminster Abbey, to tbe Men»ory of a 
late Author. (Cburchill) 551 

Part of a Letter to a Person of Quality ^.. ib. 

The Judgment of Paris .' 552 

The Wolf and Shepherds, a Fable 557 

TBANSLAllO^S. 

Anacreon, Ode xxii 558 

The Bf*ginning of the first Couk of Lucretius, ib. 

Horace. Book ii. Ode x ib. 

Horace. Book iii. Ode xiii 559 

The Pastorals of Virgil : 

''"'°"' ' -gltlieHby Google "»• 



Ill 



II. 

IlL 
IV. 
V. 
VL 
Vtt 



CONTENTS. 



560 
56« 
564 
565 
566 
561 



PMtoralVIII 56» 

IX. M 570 

X. 571. 

The Bfinistrel ; or, the ProgreM of Geoin. 

Book L ^ 573 

IL « 577 



POEMS OP COWPER. 



The Antbor'f Lifc, by Mr. Chilmcn 585 

TebW^alk ^ 605 

Progren of Erfour 611 

Thith 615 

Expofttulation 6dO 

Hope 6«5 

Charity 631 

ConTerHitioD..» ....!. 636 

Retirement 643 

The yeerly DUtieis, or Tiibing Time at Stock 

ia Essex 648 

Soonet to Henry Cowper, Esq. 649 

lines addressed to Dr. Darwin ib. 

On Mrs. Montague's Feather Hangings ib. 

Verses supposed to be written by Alexander 
Selkirk, during his Abode in the Island of 

Juan Fernandez 650 

On the Promotion of Edward Thurtow, Esq. to 

the Chancellorship of Eogland k...... ib. 

Ode to Peace 651 

Human Frailty ib. 

The modem Patriot • ib. 

On obterring some Names of little Note re- 

ccMrded in the Biographia Britannica ib. 

Report of an adjudged Case not to be found 

in any of the Books ib. 

On the burning of Lord Mansfield's library . 652 

On the same ib. 

The Love of the World reproved ... ib. 

On the death of Lady Throckmorton's Bulfineh 653 

The Rose ib. 

The Doves ib. 

Fable.— A raven while with glossy breast 654 

A Comparison ib. 

Another addressed to a young Lady ib. 

The Poet's new Year'K Gift ib. 

Ode to Apollo ib. 

Pairing Time anticipated, a Fable 655 

The Dog and the Water-Lily ib. 

The Poet, the Oyster, and the Sensative Plant. 656 

The Shrubbery ib. 

The Winter Nosegay ib. 

Mutual Forbearance necessary to the happi- 
ness of the Married state 657 

The Negro's Complaint ib. 

Pity for poor Africans 658 

The Morning Dream ib. 

The Nightingale and Glow-worm ib. 

On a Goldfinch starved to Death in his Cage . 659 

The Pine-apple and the Bee ib. 

Horice, Book the Sd, Ode the 10th* ib. 



A ReflectiQa on the fbrogoing Ode 660 

The lily and the Rose ib. 

Idem tatine Redditnm ib. 

The Poplar Field ib. 

Idem Latine Redditum ib. 

Votum 661 

Cicindela, by Vincent Bourne ib. 

The Glow-worm. Translation of the foregoing ib. 

Comicula, by Vincent Bourne, tb> 

The Jackdaw. Translation of the foregoing . ib. 
Ad Grillum. Anacreontioum, by Vincent 

Bourne 662 

The Cricket Translation of the foregoing ... ib. 

Simile agit in Simile, by Vincent Bourne ib. 

The Parrot Translation of the foregoing ... ib. 
The Task : 

Book L The SofiiL ib. 

n. The Time-piece 672 

III. The Garden 778 

IV. The Winter Evening 685 

V. The Winter Morning walk 691 

VL The Winter walk at Noon 698 

Epistle to Joseph Hill, Esq 706 

Tirocinium: or a Reriew of Schools ib. 

To the rev. Mr. Newton 713 

Catharine ib. 

The Moralizer corrected 714 

The fathfiil Bird Ib. 

The needless Alarm 715 

Boadicea 716 

Heroism ib. 

On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture out 

of Norfolk 717 

Friendship 71S 

On a mischievous Bull which the Owner of him 

sold at the Author's Instance 7l» 

Annus Memorabilia, 1789. Written in Com- 
memoration of bis Majesty's happy Recovery 720 
Hymn, for theUse of the Sunday School atOUiey ib. 
Stanzas subjoined to a Bill of Mortality for 

the Year 1787 ib. 

On a similar Occasion for 17S8 ib. 

The same for 1789 721 

The same for 1790 722 

The same for 1792 it>. 

l*he same for 1793 ib. 

Inscription for the Tomb of Mr. Hamilton ... 723 

Epitaph on a Hare ib. 

Epitaphium Aherum ib. 

Account of the Treatment of his Hares ib. 



C Whittlngbsm, Printer, Gotwell Street, London. 

.,gitized by Google 



THE 

POEMS 



OF 



NATHANIEL COTTON, MD, 



roL, xviri. h 

Digitized by LjOOQ IC 



Digitized by LjOOQ IC 



THE 



LIFE OF COTTON. 



BY MR. CHALMERS. 



UF Dr. Cotton's early history no account has tieen giyen by his numerous relations. 
Fr^m a passage in one of hb letters that will be mentioned hereaAer, it may be con< 
duded with some degree of probability, that be was bom in the year 1707, but in 
whit cSanty, or of what family, is not known. He studied physic under the celebrated 
Boerbaave, at Leyden, and it is supposed he took his degree at that university^ which 
was then the first medical school in Europe, and the resort of all who wished to derive 
honour from the place of their education. ' 

On his return, he endeavoured to establish himself as a general practitioner, but 
circumstances leading him more particularly to the study of the various species of 
lunacy, he was induced to become the successor of a Dr. Crawley, who kept a house 
for the reception of lunatics at Dunstable m Bedfordshire ; and having engaged the 
house-keeper, and prevailed on the patients' friends to consent to their removal, he 
opened a house for tlieir reception at St. Albans. 

Here he continued for some years, adding to his knowledge of the nature of mental 
disorders, and acquiring conskierable fame by the success and Immanity of his mode of 
treatment. When his patients began to increase, he found it necessary to have a larger 
house, where he formed a more regular establishment, and dignified it by the name of 
The College. Hb private residence was in St. Peter's-street, in the town of St. Albans, 
and was long known as the only house in that town defended from the efl'ects of 
l^tning by a conductor. 

The cares of his college, and the education of his numerous family, occupied near 
the whole of his long life. His poems, and prose pieces, were probably the amuse* 
ment of such hours as he could snatch from the duties of his profession. He carried 
00 also an extensive correspondence with some of the literary characters of the day» 
hy whom, as well as by all who knew him, he was beloved for his amiable and en>- 
gaging manners ; among others, he corresponded with Dr. Doddridge' , and appears 
to have read much, and thought much on subjects which are usually considered as 
beboging to the province of divines. 

1 imoQg DcDo^flgcft i^is, pu)>lisM ia 1790, U ao affectlog letttr from Dr. Cotl6b, on th« 
teboC his ant wife. C 

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4 UFE OF COTTON. 

He b not known to have produced any thing of the medical kind, except a 
quarto pamphlet, entitled Ohservdtions on a particular kind of Scarlet Fever that 
lately prevailed in and about St. Albans, 1749. The dates of some of hb po^cal 
pieces show, that he was an early suitor to the thuses. His Visions in Verse, were first 
published in 1751, again in 176*4, and frequently since. He contributed likewise a 
few pieces to Dodsley's collection. A complete collection of his productions, both in 
prose and verse, was published in 1791> 2 vols. 12mo. by one of his sons, but without 
any memoir of the author. For much of what is now given, I am indebted to a cor- 
respondent in the Gentleman's Magazine, who appears to have known Dr. Cotton, and 
kindly and readily answered the inquiries I sent to that never-failing source of literary 
information. 

Dr. Cotton was twice married ; first, about the year 1758, ta Miss Anne Pembroke, 
sister to George Pembroke, esq. formerly of St. Albans, receiver-general for the county 
of Hertford, and to Joseph Pembroke, town-clerk of St Albans. By this lady, who 
died in 1749, he had issue ;' 1. Mary, who became the second wife of John Osboni, 
esq. of St. Albans, and died without issue, Nov. 2, 1790 ; 2. Anne, who became the 
second wife of major Brooke of Bath, and died July 13, 1800, leaving a son and 
daughter, since dead ; 3. Nathaniel, who was entered of Jesus College, Cambridge, 
where he proceeded B. A. 1766, and M.A. 1769» and b now vicar of Wilford or 
Welford, in Northamptonshire ; 4. Joseph, now a director of the honourable East 
India Company ; 5. Phebe, married to George Bradshaw, esq. since dead ; 6, Katha- 
nne, who died unmarried, Dec. 2, 17B0, and b buried under an altar tomb in th# 
church yard of St Peter's, St. Albans, with the tWo followihg lines under her name : 

Hme wall, like thee, sfie life poness'd. 
And time Bball be, that thou sbalt rest. 

He had also by his first wife, a son and daughter, who died in infancy. He mar* 
ried, secondly^ in \750, or 1731, Miss Hannah Everett, who died Ma^ 1772, leaving 
a son, now living, and two daughters, since dead. 

From hb letters it appeaVs, that about the year 178C^ his health was greatly im- 
paired* He was much emaciated, and his limbs sa weak, as to be insufficient to su[>- 
port his weight. The languors, likewise, which he suffered, were so frequent and se- 
vere, as to threaten ad entire stop to the circulation, and were sometimes accompanied 
with that most distressing of all sensations, an anxiety circa pracordia. Hb memory 
too began to fail, and any subject which required a little thought was a burthen hardly 
supportable. He died August 2, 1 788, and we are told hb age was so far unknown, 
that the person who entered hb burial in the parish register, wrote after his name, 
** eighty-eight at least." From the letter, however, alluded to in the beginning of tfab 
memou*, we may attain rather more certainty in thb matter. That letter was written 
on the death of hb daughter Katharine, in 1780, when he says, *' he had passed 
almost three winters beyond the usual bouudary appropriated to human life, and had 
thus transcended the longevity of a septuagenarian." Thb, therefore, will fix his age 
at eighty-one, or eighty-two. 

He was interred with his two wives in St. Peter's church-yard, under an altar-toinb, 
between those of hb two daughters^ Mary, and Katberine^ on which nothini^ more, is 

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UFE OF COTTON. S 

imcribed tlian ^ Here are deposited the remaiDs of Anne, Hannah, and Natbaniet 
Cotton.'' 

If we hate few particulars of the life of Dr. Cotton, we have many testimonies to 
At excellence of hb character. We find from Mr. Hayley's Life of Cowper, that he 
had at one Ikne, among his patients, that amiable and interesting poet, who speaks of 
Dr. CoUon's aenrices, in a manner that forms a noble tribute to his memory. The 
idler in which this passage occurs, is dated July 4, 1766. 

** I reckon it one instance of the Providence that has attended me throughout this 
whole event, that instead of being delivered into the hands of one of the London phy- 
sicians, who were aiO much nearer that I wonder 1 was not, I was carried to Dr. Cot- 
ton. I was not only treated by him with the greatest teiulerness while I was ill, and 
with the utmost diligence, but when my reason was restored to me, and 1 had so much 
need of a religious friend to converse with, to whom I could open my mind upon the 
Bobject without reserve, I could hardly have found a fitter person for the purpose. 
My eagemeas and anxiety to settle my opinions u]K)n that long neglected point, made 
k necessary, that while my mind was yet weak, and my spirits uncertain, I should have 
tome assistaiice. The doctor was as ready to administer relief to me in this article 
fikewise, and as well qualified to do it as in that which was more immediately his pro- 
vince. How many physicians would have thought this an irregular appetite, and a 
s} ni{ > tom of remaining madness ! But if it were so, my friend was as road as myself, 
ud it B well for me that he was so.'' 

Mr. Hayley says, that Dr. Cotton was " a scholar and a poet, who added to many 
accomplishments, a peculiar sweetness of manners, in very advanced hfe,*' when Mr 
Hayley had the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with him. In a subsequent part 
of his Life of Cowper^ the latter, alluding to an inquiry respecting Dr. Cotton's works, 
pays the foUowhig compliment to his abilities—" 1 did not know that he had written 
any thkig newer than his Visions : I have no doubt that it is so far worthy of him as 
to be pions and sensible, and I believe, no man living is better qualified to write on 
such subjects, as his title seems to announce. Some years have passed since I heard 
hum him, and conadering his great age, it is probable that I shall hear from him no 
more, but I shall always respect him. He is truly a philosopher, according to my 
judgment of the character, every tittle of his knowledge in natural subjects, being con- 
nected m his mind, with the firm belief of an omnipotent agent" 

To these testimonies, which can be corroborated by a perusal of his writings, little 
Deed be added. His writings are uniformly in favour of piety and benevolence, and 
his corre^Kmdence, from which many extracts are given in the late edition of hit 
woiks, justifies the high respect in which he was held by his numerous friends. His 
prose pieces consist of reflections on some parts of Scripture, which he has entitled 
Sermons, and various Essays on Health, Uusl>andry, Zeal, Marriage, and other mis- 
cdlaneous topics. One of these, entitled Mirza to Selim, (an imitation of Lyttelton's 
Penian Letters) is said to relate to the death of the rev. Robert Romuey, D. D. vicar 
of St Albans, which happened in 1743. When dying, this gentleman prophesied that 
his brother and heir would not long enjoy hb inheritance, which proved true, as he 
died in June 1746. — Some of these Essays were probably written for the periodical 
joonials^ and x^thera for the amusement of private friends. 



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« LIFE OF COTTON. 

ni8 abilities as s( poet demand no parade of crilkistn. lie appeats to fcave written 
vfiXli ease, and had a happy turn for decorating his reflections in familiar verse t but 
tre find very little tbat b original, fatocifiil, or vigorous. He scarcely ef«r aMenipts 
ttbager}^ or description, and no where rises l>eyoDd a cettain level diction adapted to 
the class of readers, whom he was nkoi^ anxious to please. Yet bis Visions haiNe been 
popular, and deserve to continue so. Every sensible and viitnons mind acqofiesces ii 
the truth and propriety of bis niovai reflections, and Witi love tht poems tot tie sake 
of the writer. 



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TO THl 

DOWAGER COUNTESS SPENCER, 

THESE TWO SMALL VOLUMES ARE, BY PERMISSION. 
ISSCRIBED. 

IHE author being well known to her ladyship for many years* this 
public testimony of approbation of his life and works given by her, 
whose high station and rank preclude her not from a laudable and eminent 
zeal in the cause of religion and goodness, is particularly acknowledged 
by 

HER ladyship's 

most obliged, and most obedient servant, 

Nathaniel Cotton. 



Digitized by LjOOQ IC 



Digitized by VjOOQ IC 



POEMS 



OF 



NATHANIEL COTTON 



PA B LES. 



FABLE L 

Tli ^iuMtagti of applicaHon and diUgenee in our 
MT&r jftartj and the detiruciiot comequencet qf 
friie and entekjf. 

TU Bll, THB AKT, AMD THI IPAftftOW. 

1IJY detn, 'tis said in days of old, 

•L'l That beasU oonld talk, and birds could scold. 

Bat iQv it seems the human race 

AhNtt engross the speaker's place. 

Tctlitely, if report be true, 

(Aad Doch the tale relates io 3rou) 

There net a sparrow, ant, and bee, 

Whi^ leMoo'd and conversed as we. 

Who reads my page will doubtless grant, 

Ihtt Phe^ the wise industrious ant 

Aad all with half an eye may see. 

Hit Kitty it the busy bee. 

Hoe then are two— But wbere's the third ? 

Go leordi your school, you '11 find the bird. 

Tour idiool ! I ask your pardon, feir, 

Vm mat you HI find no sparrow there. 

Kov to my tale. — One summer's mom 
Abee rsog'd o^er the verdant lawn ; 
StdioQs to budiand erery hour, 
Aai make the moat of every flowY. 
Niable from stalk to stalk she flies. 
Aid loads with yellow wax her thighs ; 
WAh which the artist builds her comb. 
Aid keeps all tight and warm at home ; 
Or (nm the cowslip's golden bells 
SadD honey to enrich her cells ; 
Or cfery temptug rose punues. 
Or aps the uVs fragrant dews, 
Tct nefer robs the shining bloom, 
(Vof its beaoty, or perfume. 
^ ihe discfaarg'd in every way 
IWnnoQs duties of the day. 

hehane'd a frugal ant was near, 
WkflH teov vat imnm*d o^er by care : 



A great economist was she. 
Nor less laborious than the bee ; 
By pensive parents often taught 
What ills arise from want of thought ; 
Hiat poverty op sloth depends. 
On poverty the loss of friends. 
Hence every day the ant is found 
With anxious steps to tread the ground ; 
With curious search to trace the grain. 
And drag the heavy load with pain. 

The active bee with pleasure saw 
The ant frilfil her parents' law. 
" Ah ! sister-labourer," says she, 
" How very iprtunate are we ! 
Who, taught in infiincy to know 
The comforts which fr^m labour flow. 
Are independent of the great. 
Nor know the wants of pride and state. 
Why is our food so very sweet ? 
Because we earn before we eat 
Why are our wants so very few } 
Because we Nature's calls pursue. 
Whence our complacency of mind ? 
Because we act our parts assign'd. 
Have we incessant tasks to do ? 
Is not all nature busy too } 
Doth not the Sun with constant pace 
Persist to run his annual race ? 
Do not the stars which shine so bright. 
Renew their courses every night ? 
Doth not the ox obedient bow 
His patient neck, and draw the plough ? 
Or when did e'er the generous steed 
Withhold his labour or bis speed ? 
If you all nature's S3rstem scan. 
The only idle thing is man." 

A wanton sparrow loug'd to hear 
This sage discourse, and straight drew near. 
The bird was talkative and loud. 
And very pert, and very proud ; 
As worthless and as vain a thing 
Perhaps asever wore a wing. 
She found, atf on a spray she sat. 
The little friends were deep in chatj^ 

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10 



COTTOlfS POEMS. 



That virtajB was their fiittwrite Hheme, 
And toil aad probity their scheme : 
Such talk was bateftil to her breast. 
She thoaght them arrant prudes at besi 
When to display her naughty mind. 
Hunger with cruelty combined ; 
She viewM the ant with sarage eyes. 
And hopt, and hopt to snatoh her prize. 
The bee, who watch *d ber ppening bill^ 
And guessM her (ell design to kill, 
AskM her from what her anger rose. 
And why she treated ants as foes ? 

The sparrow her reply began. 
And thus the conversation ran. 

*' Whenever 1 'm dispos'd to dine, 
Ithink the whole creation mme ; 
That I *m a bird of high degree, 
And every insect m%de fdr'ihe. ; , 
Hence oft I search thfe trhm^ brDoc^ 
For emmets are delicious food. 
And oft in wantonness and play, 
I slay ten thousand in a day : 
For truth it is, without disguise. 
That I love mischief as my eyes.** 

'* Oh ! 6e,*' the honest bee replyM, 
'* I fear you make base man your guidew 
Of every creature sure the worsts 
The' in creation^ scale the ^rst ! 
Ungrateful man ! 'tis strange he thrivef. 
Who bums the bees to rob tbeir hives 1 
I bate his vile admhiistration. 
And so do all the emmet nation* 
What fatal foes to birds are men. 
Quite from the eagle to the wren ! 
Oh ! do not men's example take, ^ 
Who mischief do for mischieTs sake ; 
But spare the ant — her worth denuindt 
Esteem and friendship at your hands. 
A mind, with every virtue blest. 
Must raise compassion in your breast ** 

** Virtue '" rejoin'd the sneering bird, 
*' Where did you learn that gothic WQrdI 
Since I was hatched I never'heard . 
That virtue was at all rever'd. 
But say it was the antients' claim, 
> Yet modems disavow the name. 
Unless, my dear, you read romances^ 
I cannot reconcile your fancies. 
Virtue in fairy tales is seen 
To play the goddess or the queen ; 
But what's a queen without the pow'ir. 
Or beauty, child, without a dow'r ? 
Yet this is all that virtue brags ; 
At best tb only worth in rags. 
Such whims my very heart derides. 
Indeed you make me burst my sides. 
Trust me, miss Bee — to speak the truth, 
I 've copied man from earliest youth ; 
The same our taste, the same our school^ 
Passion and appetite our rule ; 
And call me bird, or caU me sirtner, 
1 *\i ne'er forego my sport or dinner." 
' A prowling cat the miscreant ^ies. 
And wide expands her amber eyes. 
Near and more near Grimalkin drawB» 
She wags her tail) protends ber paws ; . 
Then springing on her thoughtless prey. 
She bore the vicious bird away. 

Thus in her cruelty and pride. 
The wicked, wanton ^aitow dy'd. 



FABLE n. 



That tru€ virtue conmit tn actton, mni not 
specuiaiion, 

TBS tCHOLAl AWD TAB CAT. 

Laboui entitles man to eat. 

The idle have no claim to meat. 

This i«]le most every station fit, 

BecaHse^'tis drawn from sacred writ 

And yet, to feed on such condition. 

Almost amounts to prohibition. 

Rome's priesthood wou'd be doom'd, I fev. 

To eat soup maigre all the year. 

And wou'd not Oxford's doister'd loa 

By this hard statute be undone } 

In troth, your poet, were he fed 

No dft'ner thda he e4rft«hi| bf«i0; 

The fengeanc* of tkil law Wbft'drfcel, 

And often go without a meal. 

It seem'd a scholar and his cat 
Together join'd in social chat 
WlteA^liue the letter'd youth began — 
'' Of what vast oonseqoence b man 1 
Lords of this nether globe we shine, * 

Our tenure's held by right div'me. 
Here independence waVes its plea. 
All creatures bow the vassal knee. 
Nor earth alone can bbund our reigD, 
Ours is the empire of thfe main. 

" Trae--Hiian's a soveiMgit piraoe-^^Nlt m^ 
What airt sustains tbeilioiiaveh'i swaf. 
Say from what source we fetch soppUci, 
Tis here the grand inquiry lies. 
Strength is Aot maik'v-^^ itVMgth nMN^t ill < 
Best with the strocture of a brute. 
Nor craft nor cunning can suMce, 
, A fox might then dispute the prize'* 
, To god-like reason His we owe 
Our ball and sceptre here below. 

" Now your associate next explaitia 
To whom precedence appertains. 
And sure 'tis easy to divine 
i The leaders of this royal line. 
Note that all tntdesmcn I attest 
But petty princes at the best 
Superior exoellends you '11 fidd - 
In those, who cultivate the^mhu!. 
Hence heads of colleges, you 'U own, 
i Transcend th' assessors of a tbrone. 
Say, Evans, have ydu any doubt ? 
You cant olfend by speaking out'^ 

With visage placid and sedate. 
Puss thus addrete'd her learned mate. 

" We're told that none in Nature's ^lai» 
Disputes pre-eminence with man. 
But this is still a dubious case 
To me, and all our purring race. 
We grant indeed to partial eyes 
Men may appear supremely wise* 
, But our sagacious rabbies hold. 
That all which glitters is not gold! 
Pray, if your haughty claims be tnic^ 
Why are our manners ap*d by you? 
Whene'er you think, alt cats agree. 
You shut your optics, just as We. 
Pray, why like cat* so wrapt in thought. 
If y^u by cats were never taught ? 
But know, our tabby schools »naii»« niii 
Worth is not centet'd in the braiD. r 

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I 



FABI2S; 



11 



IKbI tfaaft our iifes tbought ( 
K»— but io sctJOQ Tiitoe lies. 
We find it by experience ftict, 
Tktt tliougbt must ripen into alp/t ; 
Or cat DO real 6uDe ac<|aires, 
But Tirtoe in the bod expires. 
Tbit point foar Orchard can decide^-^ 
Obtenre its gay antuttmal pride. 
Fbr trees are held in high repate, 
Not for tbetr bto«oms, but their fnAt, 
If so» then Millar's * page decreet 
Mere f^>olais to be barren trees. 
But if these vanoos reason^ fiul, 
JLei my example once prevaiL 

** When to your chamber yon repfeir. 
Your prope rty employs my care. 
Aad vfaile yon sink in sweet repos^ 
Uj hifhM eyelids n^rer close. 
When hunger prompts the oAonse to Aettl^ 
Then I display my honest zeal ; 
IVue to m; charge, these talons seize 
The wrefech, who dares parioin your cheese. 
Or ibonld the thief assault your bread, 
1 strike tbe aodacioiis felon dead. 

** Nor say I spring at smaller game-^ 
My provess slaoghtcr'd rdts proclahn. 
Pm told, your generals often fly, 
When daoger, and when death are nigh ; 
Nay, vfaeo nor death nor danger's near, 
Ai your coart-martiab make appear. 
Wl*ea io your service we engage, 
We fafmre the pilfering villain's rage ; 
NVcr take advantage of the lught. 
To meditate inglorious flight ; 
Bat stand reaolT^d, when foes dtfy. 
To omqner, or to bravely die. 

** Hence, bodkworm, learn oar duty her» 
bactifehfe in every sphere. 
Kaiw too, there '§ scarce a brute but cao 
lutmet vain sopercilioas man.*' 



FABLE UL 



7W ear fortitmde ^nd perseveranet tkoM he pro- 
portiomate to tlu degree and duration qf our ttuf- 
fenmgs, 

■XmfMK JtKD Tttt UAkntiMt, 

Win sore calamities we feel, 

Aad sorrow treads on sorrow*s heel, 

Osr ooorage and our strength, we sayv 

Are JMdBcieBt hr the day. 

Tkm aaa's'a poor dejected elf, 

Who bin would run away from sel£ 

Tct tare to Germany, yon 'H find 

Aa atlas of a human nund ! 

Ibrt heie I deviate finom my (^n, 

tm Prassia's king is more than man ! 

y/em befl%s suit my rhyme, 

My scheme, my genius, and my time ; 

Hea, birds, and beasts, with now and tbea 

A pagan god, t» grace my pen. 

A vesKl hoondfor India's coast, 
^ merchants confidence and bout, 
^Mi iofth to sea — tbe gentle deep 
^ ' t ito boisteioqs god asleep. 

A Tbe writer ob Botany. 



Three cheerful riidots the saOoTf gftfOf 
And zephyrs curl tbe shining wave* 
A halcyon sky preraib awhile, 
The tritons and the nereids sinUe. 
These omens fidrest hopes impress. 
And half insure the George success* 

What casual ills these hopes destroy ! 
To change how subject every joy ! 
When dangers most remote appear. 
Experience proves those dangers near. 
Thus, boast of health whene'er ywt please» 
Health is next neighbour to disease 
TIs prudence to suspect a foe. 
And fortitude to meet the bk>w. 
In wisdom's rank he stands the first. 
Who stands prepared to meet tbe worrt^ 

Forlo! minnmbte'd cloods arise. 
The sable legions spread the skies. 
The storm around the vessel raves,' 
The deep displays a thousand graves. 
With active Innds and fearless hearti 
The sailors play their varioua parts ; 
They ply the ptnnps, they furi the salls^ 
Yet nought their diligence avails. 
The tempest thiekens every hour. 
And mocks the fieats of human pow'r. 

The sailors now their fate deplore, 
Efttrang'd to every fear before. 
With wild surprise their eye-balls glare, 
Their honest breasts admit despair. 
All further eflbrts they {ieclihe. 
At once all future hopes resign ^ 
And thus abandoning their skill. 
They give the ship to drive at will. 

Straight enter'd with majestic graoe^ 
A form of more than human race. 
The god an azure mantle wotb^ 
His hand a forked sceptre bote | 
When thus the uKmareh of the maro-«* 

" How dare you deem your labdovs Tsfai 9 
ShAU man exert hinwelf the less, 
Because superior dangers press } 
How can I think yotir heart sincere. 
Unless you bravely p er se ve ie } 
Know, mortals, thai when perils rlse^ 
Perils enhaiioe tbe gkjrioQs pl-ize. 
But^ who deserts himielf, sludl be 
Deserted by the gods and me. 
Hence to your charge. Sod do yodrbflt^ 
My trident shall da all tbe reM." 

The marines their task ten^. 
All to their destin*d prov i nce flew. 
The winds are biKh*d— the sea suhndei^ 
The gallant George in s«ibty rides. 



PABLE IV. 



7*e foUif of pasting a hasty uki dtro^tory jud^ 
ment upon the noxhut tiHtmalt of the erta&nu 

THB B£AtJ AND THl TXrBB. 

Kll wise philosophers maintain 
Nature cieated nought in vahk 
Yet some with supercilious brow^ 
Deny tbe truth asserted now. 
What if I show that only man 
Appears defective in the plani 
Say, will the sceptic lay aside 
His sneers, his arrogance, and P"<^c?-)qq|p 

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COTTON'S POEMS. 



A besUy iinpoftdd n^ih tfoak FrsneOy 
Whose stady was to droi and dance ; 
Who had b^mes, in GalUa't school, 
Grafted the coxcomb on the fool ; 
Approached a wood one tmnmer's day^ 
To screen him from the scorching ray* 
And as he trarersM thro' the grove, 
Scheming of gallantry and love, 
A viper's spiry folds were seen. 
Sparkling with azure, gold, and green ; 
Tbe bean indignant, weak, and praud. 
With transport thus exclaimed alood :**-* 

'* Avaunt, detested fiend of night ! 
Thou torture to the human sight! 
To every reptile a disgrace. 
And fatal to our god-like race. 
Why were such creatures formM as 3roa9 
Unless to prove my doctrine true ; 
That when we -view this nether sphere, 
Kor wisdom nor design appear V 

The serpent raisM bis angry crest, 
Aq honest zeal infiam*d his breast. 
His hissings struck the fbpling*s ear. 
And shook his very soul with fear. 
** Inglorious wretch !" the viper cries, 
*' How dare you broach infernal lies ? 
Is there, in all creation's cham, 
A link so worthless and so vain ? 
Grant thatjrour dress were truly thine. 
How can your gold compare with mine } 
Your vestments are of garter hue, 
Mine boast a far superior blue. 

'* You style me reptile in contempt. 
You are that very reptile meant ; 
A two-legg'd thing which crawls on etrth, 
Void of utility and worth. 

•• You call me fatad to your race- 
Was ever charge so fiilse and base? 
You cant in all your amiab find. 
That unprovok'd we hurt ndankiiid. 
Uninjur'd men in mischief deal. 
We only bite the hostile heel 

" Do not we yield our lives to fbed. 
And save your vile distempered breed. 
When leprosy pollutes your veins. 
Do not we purge the loathsnoit stains ? 
When riot and excess prevail. 
And health, and strength, and spirits iSul ; 
Doctors firom ns then' aid derive. 
Hence penitential rakes revive. 
We bleed to make the caitifib dine >, 
Or drown to medicate th<»r whie. 

*' You ask, my poison to whateftd ? 
ilinute philosopher, attend. 

** Nature, munificent and wise. 
To all our wants adapts supplies. 
Our frames are fitted to our need. 
Hence greyhounds are endu'd with speed. 
Lioos by force their prey subdue. 
By force maintain their empire too : 
But power, altbo* the lion's fame. 
Was never known the viper's clahn. 
Observe, when I unroll my length — 
Say, is my structure form'd for strength I 
Doth not celerity imply 
Or legs to run, or wings to fly ? 

1 Upon some oocasions vipers are dressed, 
«enredtotebl«aaeels. 



and 



My jaws are oonrtttnted weat, 
Hence poison lurks behind my cheek. 
As lightning quick my fongs convey 
This liquid to my wounded prey. 
The venom thus insures my bite. 
For wounds preclude the victim^s flight. 

*' * But why this deadly juice,' you cry. 
To make the wretched captive die ? 
Why not possess'd of stronger jaws. 
Or arm'd like savage brutes with cla»t }* 

"Oin such weak arguments persuade ? 
Ask rather, why were vipers made ? 
To me my poison's more than Wealthy 
And to ungrateful mortals health. 
In this benevolent design 
My various organs all combine. 
Strike out the poison from my frame. 
My system were no more the same. 
I then should want my comforts due, * 

Nay, lose my very bciog too. 
And you 'd, as doctors ail agree, 
A sovereign medicine lose in me. 

" Now Icam, 'tis arrogance in OMm, 
To censure what he cannot scan. 
Nor dare to charge God's works with ill. 
Since vipers kind designs liilfil : 
But give injurious scruples o'er. 
Be still, be humble, and adore." 



FABLE V. 



That happin^st is much more equally distribute*J, than 
the generality if mankind are apprized qf. 

Til SNAIL AMD THt GAinSKEa. . 

When sons of fortune ride on high, 
How do we point the admiring eye ! 
With foolish face of wonder gaze. 
And often covet what we praise. 
How do we partial Nature chide. 
As deaf to every son beside ! 
Or censure the mistaken dame, 
As if her optics were to blame ! 
Thus we deem Nature most unkind. 
Or what 's as bad, we deem her blind. 

But when inferior ranks we see. 
Who move in humbler spheres than we j 
Men by comparisons are taught. 
Nature is not so much in fault 
Yet mark iny tal^— the poet's pen 
Shall vindicate her ways to men. 

Within a garden, far from town. 
There dwelt a snail of high renown ; 
Who, by tradition as appears, 
Had been a tenant several years. 
She spent her youth in wisdom's page — 
Hence honour'd and rerer'd in age. 
Do snails at any time contend. 
Insult a neighbour, or a friend ; 
Dispute their property, and share, 
Or in a cherry, or a' pear ? 
No lord chief justice, all agree, - 
So able, and so just as she ! 
Whichever way their causes went, 
All parties came away content 
At length she found herself decay. 
Death sent menoentos every day. 
Her drooping strength sustains no more 
The shell, which en her back she bore. 



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FABLES. 



}t 



l%e e^re had loit Hi Tkoal art. 
TbeboTy ear refos'd its part } , 
Tbe teeth perfonn'd their office ill. 
And every member fail*d her will. 
Bat DO defects in mind appear, 
Ber iotelkcU are strong and clear. 
Thai when his glorious coarse is run» 
Hov brightly rtiines the setting San ! 

The nevs thro* all the garden spread. 
The neighboan throog'd about her bed ; 
Cheerfal she raisM her voice aloud, 
iod thus addressM the weeping crowd. 

** My Inends, I >m hast'uing to the graTe, 
And know, nor plum, nor peach can save. 
Yes, to those mansions go I must. 
Where our good fathers sleep in dnst 
Nor am I backward to explore 
Tfctt gloomy vale they trod before. 
*GaiiHt Fate^ decree what can I say I 
like other snails I 've had my day. 
Poll many summer suns I '▼e seen. 
And now die grateful and serene. 

" If men the higher pow'rs arraign, 
Shan we adopt the plaintive strain ) 
Katore, profose to ns and ours. 
Hath kindly built these stately tow*rs ; 
Where, when the skies in night are drest. 
Secure from every ill we rest 
Surrey our carious structure well — 
flow firm, and yet bow light our shell ! 
Oar refuge, when cold storms invade, 
Aod in the dog-dsys* heat our shade. 

** Thus wheo we see a fleeter race, 
We Ul not lament our languid pace. 
Do dangers rise, or foes withstand r 
.' re not our castles close at hand ? 
For let a snail at distance roam, 
Tbe happy snail is still at home. 

" Surrey our gardens' blest retreats-*- 
Oh ! what a paradise of sweets ! 
With what vari^y it's stor'd ! 
I'Doamber^d dainties spread our board. 
Tbe plums assunoe their glossy blue, 
And cheeks of nectarines glow for you ; 
Peaches their lovely blush betray, 
Aod apricots their gold display ; 
While for yonr beverage, when yoa dine. 
There streams the nectar of the vine. 

" Be not my dying words forgot j 
IVpart, contented with your lot ; 
Repress complaints when they begin^ 
IiHrratitode's a crying sin. 
And bold it fbr a truth, that we. 
Are quite as blest as snails should be." 

The gardener hears with great surprise 
This sage discourse, and thus he cries-— 
'* Oh ! what a thankless wretch am I, 
Who pass ten tboosand fiivours by ! 
1 blame, whene'er the linnet sings, 
My want of song, or want of wings. 
The piercing hawk, with towering flight. 
Reminds me of deficient sight 
And when the generoos stMd I view, 
Is not his strength my envy too ? 
I thus at birds and beasts repine, 
And wish their various talents mine. 
Fool as I am, who cannot see 
Bcason is more than aH to mt 



<' My landlord boasts a laige estati^ 
Rides in his coach, and eats in plate. 
What I shall these lures bewitch my eye F 
Shall they extort the murmuring sigh? 
Say, he eojoys superior wealth — 
Is no( my better portion, health ? 
Before the Sun has gilt the skies, 
Returning labour bids me rise ; 
Obedient to the hunter's horn, 
He quits his couch at early mom. 
By Want compelled, I dig the soil. 
His is a voluntary toil. 
For truth it is, since Adam's fall, . 
His sons must labour, one and all. 
No man*s exempted by his purse. 
Kings are included in the curse. 
Wou'd monarchs relish what they eat I 
Tis toil that makes the manchet sweet; 
Nature enacts, before they're fed. 
That prince and peasant earn theii bread* 

" Hence wisdom and experience show. 
That bliss in equal currents flow ; 
That happiness is still the same, 
How'er ingredients change their names 
Nor doth this theme our search defy« 
Tis level to the human eye. 
Distinctions, introduced by men. 
Bewilder, and obscure our ken. 
I '11 store these lessons in my heart. 
And cheerful act my prc^r part 
If sorrows rise, as sorrows will, 
I 'II stand resign'd to every ill ; 
Convinced, that wisely every pack 
Is suited to the bearer's back." ' 



FABLE VI. 



TViat the crnnplaintt qf nutnkind, against their sne^ 
ral stations and provinces in l\fe, are qften frivor 
ious, and atways unwarrantable, 

THB SASMia AMD TBB HOtSS, 

" »Tis a vain world, and all things show it, 
I thought so once, but now I know it K** 
Ah 1 Oay ; is thy poetic page 
Tlie child of disappointed age ? 
Talk not of threescore years and ten. 
For what avails'our knowledge then ? 

But grant, that this exporienc'd truth 
Were asoertain'd m early youth ; 
Reader, what benefit would flow ^ 
I vow, I 'm at a loss to know. 
The world alarms the human breast. 
Because in savage colours drest 
Tis treated with invective style. 
And stands impcach'd of fraud and guile. 
All in this heavy charge agree — 
But who's in fault — ^the world, or we ? 
The question 'a serious, short, and clear. 
The answer claims our patient ear. 
Yet if this oflSce you decline — 
With all my heart— ihe task be mme. 
I 'm certain, if I do my best, 
Your candour will excuse tbe res^ 

A farmer, with a pensive brow. 
One morn accompany'd bis plough, 

1 Qay^s Epitaph. 

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14 



COTTOIfS POEMS. 



The laria th^ eh eei fq l maiiai fmif» 
The woods with answeriuK mntic rung ; 
The Sun dkplay'd his goidm r«y» 
And nature bail'd the rifing day. 
Bat itill the peasant all the while 
Refus'd to jom the general smile. 
He, like his iaiiWs long before. 
Resembled moch the Jews of yore ; 
Whose murmurs impious, weak, ami Tain, 
Nor quails nor mapna coald restrain. 

Did accidental dearth prevail ? 
How prone to tell his piteous tale ! 
Pregnant with joys did plenty rise ? 
How prone to blame indulgent skies ! 
Thus ever ready to complain, 
For plenty sinks the prioe of g^in. 

At lenfi^h he spake :— " Ye poMraif divine, 
Was ever lot so hard aa mine } 
From mfant life an anmnt slave. 
Close to the confines of the gravCi 
Have not I followed my employ 
Near threescore winters, man and boy ? 
But since I callM this £srm my own. 
What scenes of sorrow have I known ! 
Alas ! if all the truth were toM, 
Hath not the rot impaired my fold } 
Hath not the measles aeiz'd my swine ? 
Hath not the murrain slain my kine ? 
Or say that horses be my theme» 
Hath not the staggers thinnM my tetm } 
Have not a thousand ills beside 
Deprived my stable of its pride } 

** When I survey my lands arouDd, 
What thorns and thistles spread my grouad ! 
Doth not the grain my hopes beguile, 
And mildews mock the thresher's toil ? 
However poor the harvests pa$t. 
What so deficient as the last ¥ 
But tbo* nor blasts, nor mildewa rise, 
Ifty turnips are destn^y'd by flies ; 
My sheep are pin'd to such degree. 
That not a botcher comes to me. 

'* Seasons are changed from what they were. 
And hence too foul, or hence too fair. 
Now scorching heat and drought annoy. 
And now returning sbowera dotroy. 
Thus have I pass'd my better years 
'Midst disappohitments, carei, and tean. 
And now, when I compute my gams. 
What have I reap'd for all my pains ? 

" Oh ! had I koovn in manbood^s priflM 
These slow convictions wrought by tUnn; 
Would I have brav'd the iHirioQS woei 
Of summer suns, and winter snotwa } 
Would I have tempted every sky, 
So wet, so windy, or so dry } 
With all the cleanenU at strife ? 
Ah ! no— 1 then had plann'd a life. 
Where wealth attends the middle stagi^ 
And rest and comfort wait on age. 
Where rot and murrain ne'er commence. 
Nor pastures bum at my expense ; 
Nor i^iur'd cows their wants bewail. 
Nor dairies muum the milkless pail ; 
Nor bams lament the blasted grain. 
Nor cattle curse the barren plain. '* 

Dun hobblcd.by his master's tidi^ 
And thus the sober brute reply'd :— 



« Look thro* yoar tMni,4MMl whece H thft stt(4 
Who dares dispute with me his breed ? 
Few horses trace their lineage higher, 
Godolphm*s Arab was my sire ; 
My dam was sprang firom Panton's stud« 
My grandam boasted Chiiders* blood. 
But ah ! it now avails me not 
By what illustrious chief begot ! 
Spavins pay no regard to birth, 
And foiling vision sinks my worth. 
The squire, when he disgusted grew, , 
Transferred his property to you. 
And since poor Dun ' became your owug 
What scenes of sorrow have 1 known 1 ' 
Hath it not been my constant toil 
To drag the plough, and turn the soil ? 
Are not my bleeding shoulders wrung 
By large and weighty Iqads of dung I 
When the shorn meadows claim your caofl^ 
And fragrant cocks perfume the air; 
When Ceres' ripen'd fraits abound. 
And Plenty waves her sheaves aroond ; 
True to my collar, home I bear 
The treasures of the fruitfol ye^r. 
And tho* this dradgery be mine, 
You never heard me once repine. 

" Yet what rewards have crown'd my dayil 
I *m grudged the po >r mward of praise. 
For oats small gratitude I owe. 
Beans were untaste4 J03rs, you know. 
And now I *m hast'niog to my end, • 
Past services can find no friend. 
Infirmities, disease, and age. 
Provoke my surly driver's rage. 
Look to my wounded flanks, you '11 sea 
No horse was ever us'd like me. 

" But now I eat my meals with pa|i^ 
Averse to masticate the grain. 
Hence you direct, at night and iaom» 
That chaff accompany my oora ; 
For husks, altho* my teeth be few. 
Force my reluctant ja#s to chew. 
What then ? oit life shall I complain. 
And call it fleeting, folse, and vain ? 
Against the world shall I inveigh. 
Because my grindera now decay ? 

" Yeu think it were the wiser pl9% 
Had I consorted ne'er with man ; 
Had I my liberty malntain'd, 
Or liberty by flight regain'd. 
And rang'd o'er distant hills and dala» 
With the wild foresters of Wales. 

<* Grant I succeeded to my mind^* 
Is happiness to hills confin'd } 
Dont Famine oft erect her throne 
Upon the rugged itaountain's stone } 
And don't the lower pastures foil. 
When snows descending choke the Tale t 
Or who so hardy to dedace 
Disease and death ne'er enter t|iere ? 

'* Do pares or s ic kn ess here iuYada^ 
Bfan tenders me his cheerful aid. 
For who beholda his hungry beast. 
But grants him some supply at uiast^ 
Int'rest shall pronipt him to puriMA 
What inclinatioa would not do. 

Say, had I been the desert's foal, - 
Thro' life estrang'd to rnmi'i control | 



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f^tf 99Tie6 liad I 4om 6b Bartii, 

Or wbo cooM profit by my birth ? 

If J b«^ bftd ne'er susteinM thy m^t, 

Mf cbest ne'er kpown thy «aggon*s freigfat ; 

Bat 00V my several powers oombine 

T) sBfvcr Nature's ends and thine. 

I •» nscfiil thos in csrcry view — 

Oh ! coqM I say the same of yoa ! 

" Supnior evils had ensn'd, 
Widi presdenoe had I been eadnM. 
nh, tbo* at distance seen, destroy, 
Or licken every present joy. 
We lelidi every new delight, 
Wbeo future griefe elude our sight 
To blindnesB then what thanks are due ! 
ft makes each single comfort two. 
Ite oolt, unknown to pain and toil, 
Afltidpates to morrow's smile. 
Too lamb ei^oys the present hour, 
Asbmger to ibe botcher's power. 

** Tour's is a wild Utopian scheme, 
A boy woold blosh ta own yoQt draam. 
Be yaor profenion what it will, 
No profinoe is exempt from ill. 
Quite from the cottage to the throne, 
Statioos have sorrows of thor own. 
Wby should a peasant then explore , 
What longer heads ne'er found before ? 
Go, preach my d e fine to your son. 
By yoor*8, the lad wooM be undone. 
Bat whether he regards or not, 
Tour lecture would be soon forgot 
Tlie ho|wS vduch gali'd the parent's bveatft. 
Ere long will mak« his son their jest 
TW no* these cobweb cheats you sputa. 
Yet every man 's a dupe in turn. 
And wii^ so ordain'd, indeed, 
(Whete'er philosophers may |4ead). 
Ebe life woold stagnate at \is oource, 
And man, and horse decline the cour^. 

** Then bid young Ralpbo never oimd it, 
lot take the world as be diall find it" 



T4LES. 



THE LAMB AND .THE PIQ. 

ComuLT the manfiat, yoo 'U IUmI 
Tbat education focns th^ mind« 
But educatioQ ne'er aupply>d 
What ruling nalnre hath, den^^ 
If you 11 the foHowing page pvwsue. 
My tale shall prove this doctrine true. 

Snoe to the Muse all brutes belong, 
The lamb shall usher in my song ; 
Whose snowy fleece adorn'd her skii^ 
Emblem of native white within. 
Meekness and love possess'd her soul, 
Aad hmocence had crown'd the whole. 

It ehanc'd in some unguarded hour, 
(Ah ! purity, precarioos flower ! 
Let maidens of the present age 
TmaMe, when they peruse my page}. 
It chaocM vpoa a lucUesa day, 
1W iittk waBtoo, full of plaj^ 



Rejoic'd a thymy honk to gain, 
But short the triumphs of her reignf 
The teacherous slopes her fate foietelt^ 
And soon the pretty triflerfelL 
Beneath, a dirty ditch impfessHl 
Its mire upon her spotless vest 
What greater ill cuu'd lamb betide. 
The butcher's barbarous knife beside? 

The shepherd, wounded with her crie^ 
Straight to tlie bleating sufferer flies. 
The lambkin in his arms he took. 
And bore her to a neighbouring brooJu 
The silver streams her wool refinM, 
Her fleece in virgin whiteness shin'd. 

Cleans'd from pollution's every stai% 
She join'd her follows on the plain; 
And saw afor the stinking sliore. 
But ne'er appnmch'd those dangess 19011^ 
The shepherd bless'd the kind event. 
And view'd his flock with sweet content 

To market next he shap'd his way. 
And bought provisions for the day. 
But made, for winter's rich nipply, 
A purchase from a former's sty. 
The children round their parent crowii^ 
And testify their mirth aloud. 
They saw the stranger with surprise. 
And all admir'd his little eyes. 
Familiar grown he sluur'd their jogn, 
Shar'd too the porridge with the boys. 
The females o'er his dress preside. 
They wash his foce and scour his hide« 
But daily more a swine he grew» 
For all these housewives e'er oould do. 

Uence let my youthful reader knov^ 
That once a hog, and always so. 



DEATH AND THE RAK^t 

A DUTCH TALE. 

Whin pleasures court the human heart. 

Oh ! 'tis reluctant work to part 

Are we with griefs and pains Of^ress'd } 

Who says that Death's a welcome gqest^ 

Tho' sure to cure our evils all, 

He's the last doctor we wou'd calL 

We think, if he airives at mom, 

'TIS hard to die, as soon as bom. 

Or if the conqueror invade. 

When life prefects the evening shads^ 

Do we not m^itate delay. 

And still request a longer stay } 

We shift our homes, we change the air. 

And double, like the hunted hare. 

Thus be it morn, or night, or noon. 

Come when he wilt, he comes too soon ! 

You wish my subject J wou'd wave. 
The preface is so very grave. 
Come then, my friend, I '11 change ray style. 
And couch instruction with a smile 
But promise, ere I tell my tale. 
The serious moral shall prevail. 

Vanbmin dy'd — his son, we 're toM, 
Succeeded to his father's gold. 
Fluah'd with his wealth, the thoughtkii 
Despis'd frugality, aui trade; 



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COTTOire POEMS. 



Left Amsterdam with eager liaate, 
Dness, and the Hague^ engroas'd hii taste. 

Ere kmg bis paanon chai^d its shape. 
He grew enamoar'd with the grape. 
Frequented mnch a house of cheer, 
Just like our fools of fortune here ; 
With sots and harlots fond to join, 
And revel o'er his midnight wine. 

Once on a time the bowls had flow'd. 
Quite till the morning cock had crow'd. 
When Death, at every hour awake, 
Eoter'd the room, and ckum'd the rake. 
The |routh*s complexion spoke his fears. 
Soft stole adown his cheek the tears. 
At length the anguish of his breast 
With feult'ring tongue he thus expressed. 

** Thou king of terrours, hear my pnyer, 
And condescend for onoe to spare. 
Let me thy clemency engage. 
New to the worM, and greeq in age. 
When life no pleasures can dispense. 
Or pleasures pall upon the sense ; 
When the eye feete departing sight, 
And rolls its orb in vain for light ; 
When music's joys no kmger cheer 
The sick'ning heart, or heavy ear ; 
Or when my aching limbs forbear. 
In sprightly balls to join the fair ; 
I >11 not repeat my suit to Death, 
But chearfuUy resign my breath.'' 

" Done," sa>-s the monarch — "be it so ; 
Observe-^you promise then to go !" 

What fovour such protracted date 
Ph>m the stem minister of fote ! 
Your wonder will be greater soon, 
To hear the wretch. perverts the boon. 
Who, during years beyond a score. 
Ne'er thought upon bis promise more I 

' But were these terms by Death forgot ? 
Ah 1 no — again he seeks the sot 
The wretch was in the tavern found. 
With a few gouty friends around. 
Dropsy had seiz'd his legs and thighs. 
Palsy his hands, and rheum his eyes. 
When thus the king — " Intemperate elf. 
Thus, by debauch, tu dupe yourself. . 
What ! are my terrours spurn'd by thee ! 
Thou fool ! to trifle thus with me ! 
You ask'd before for length of days. 
Only to riot various ways. 
What were thy pleas but then a sneer ? 
I '11 now retort with jest severe. 

'* Read this small print," the monarch 
" You mock me, sir," the man replies. 
*' I scarce could reaid when in my prime, 
And now my sight 's impair'd by time. 
Sure you consider not my age — 
1 can't discern a single page. 
And when my friends the bottle paai, 
I scarce can see to fill my glass.*' 

*' Here take this nut, observe it well— 
nis my command you crack the shelL" 

" How can suet orders be obey'd ? 
My grinders, sir, are quite decay'd. 
My teeth can scarce divide my bread, 
Aod not a sound one in my head !" 

But Death, who more terCastic giew, 
JXteWd a violin to view ; 



Then loud be ca|i*d, <^OId boy, advance^ 
Stretch out your legs, and lead the dance," 

The man rejoin'd— " When age summndf^ 
How can tlye ear distinguish sounds ? « 
Are not my limbs unwieldy grown } 
Are n^t my feet at cold as stone } 
Dear sir, take pity on my state— 
My legs can scarce support my weight !" 

Death drops the quaint, insulting joke. 
And meditates the fetal stroke. 
Assuming all his terrours now. 
He speaks with anger on his brow. 

** Is thus my lenity abus'd. 
And dare you hope to stand excus'd ? 
You've spent your time, that pearl of price ! 
To the detested ends of vice. 
Purchas'd your short-liv'd pleasures dear, 
And seal'd your own destruction here. 
Infiam'd your reckoning too above, 
By midnight bowls, and lawless love. 
Warning, you know, I gave betimes— 
Now go, and answer for your crimes." 

" Oh ! my good lord, repriess the blow— 
I am not yet prepar'd to ga 
And let it, sir, be fi^er told, 
That not a neighbour thinks me old. 
My hairs are now but turning grey, 
I am not sixty, sir, till May. 
Grant me the common date of men, 
I ask but threescore years and ten." 

'* Dar'st thou, prevaricating knave. 
Insult the monarch of the grave ? 
I claim thy solemn contract past — 
Wherefore this moment is thy last" 

Thus having raid, he speeds his dart. 
And cleaves the hoary dotard's heart 



OD/SS OF HORACE. 



THE SECOND OlSS OF THE SECOND lOOX. 
INSCRIBED TO T. V. ESQ. 

Dear youth, to hoarded wealth a foe^ 
Riches with feded lustre glow ; 
Yes, dim the treasures of the mine. 
Unless with temperate use they shine. 
This stamps a value on the gold. 
So Proculeius thou^t of old. 

Soon as this generous Roman taw 
His father's sons proscribed by law. 
The knight discharged a parent's part, 
They shar'd his fortune and his heart 
Hence stands consign'd a brother's name 
'J'o immortahty and feme. 

Wou'd you true empire ascertain ? 
Curb all immoderate lust of gain. 
This is the best ambition known, 
A greater conquest tlian a throne. 
For know, should avarice control. 
Farewell the triumphs of the soul. 

This is a dropsy of' the mind. 
Resembling the corporeal kind ; 
For who with this disease are curst. 
The more they drink, the more they thur^t 



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„ 1 their bleated veitm, 

Aad pale-«y*d, sigbiog languor Ifwgns. 

Vhtoe, who diffsn from the crowd, 
lUfecta the coTctont and proud ; 
Di«iaiiia the wUd ambitaoiis breut. 
And acormto call a noaarch blett ; 
laboora Co rcscae trath and tenae 
ftom spccMMtt fOQiidt, and vain pretence. 

Vhrtoe to that distingiiishM few 
Gires royalty, and conqoeat tooj 
That wise minority, who own. 
And pay their tribute to her throne j 
Who view with undesiring eyes, 
Aad^ram that wealth which misers prize. 



^^^ TWrril ODI OF THB SECOMD BOOK. 

Woo'd you, my Ineod, true blise obtain > 

Nor press the coast, nor^twnpt the main. 

In open seas loud tempests roar. 

And treacherous rocks begirt the shore. 

Hatred to all ertremes is seen. 

Id those who love the goldep mean. 

They nor in palaces jejoice. 

Nor is the sordid cot thtir choice. 

The middle state of Ufe is best, 

Eulted sUtions And no test; 

Storms shake th» aspiring pme, and tower. 

And mountains £eel the thunder's power. 

The mind prepared for each event, 

la erery state maintains content 

She hopes the liest, when ttormi prevail, 

Nor trusts too fiir the prosperous gale. 

SwuM time retumiiMr winters bring, 

Rrtunung winter yields to spring. 

Sboo'd darkness shroud t!ie present skies. 

Hereafter brighter suns shall rise. 

When Pfean shoots his flery darU, 

Dbea.4e and death transfix our hearts: 

But oft the god withholds his bow, 

fa pky tothe race below. 

When clouds the angry Heavens deform. 
Be stroDg^, and brave the swelling storm : 
4Bidit prosperity's foil gales 
Be bumble, and contract your sails. 



EPITAPHS. 

RuDtt, approach my nm— thou needV not fear 

Jb' extorted promise of one plaintive tear. 

To ffoura thy uuknowu fr^nd— Prom me thoult 

learn 
More than a Plato taoght-4hc grand concern 
Of inortsis !— Wrapt iojieosive thought, survey 
T»w little freehold of unthinking clay. 
And know thy end I 

TW young, tho' gay, thb scene of death explore, 
AIM! the you^, the gay is Dpw no more ! 



cat BOBEar clavskinc. ^. b. 
jfti ? come, i|ho know the chsldlest parents sigh, 
Vw!xYllL*^^ •n<l *e ftwmiug eye ; 



Who foel the vonnds a dying fri^d imparts, 
^lien the last pang divides two social hearts. 
This weeping marble claims the generous tear, 
Here lies the friend, the son, and all that 's dear. 

He fell fulI-blosHom'd in the pride of youth. 
The nobler pride of science, worth, and truth. 
Calm and serene he viewM his mouldering clay. 
Nor fear'd to go, nor fondly wish'd to stay. 
And when the king of terrours be descry'd, 
Kiss'd the stern mandate, bow'd his head, and dy'd. 



OW COLONEL CARDINEB, 

fVho teas slain in the Battle at Preston Pant, 1745. 
While fainter merit nsk.s the powers of verse. 
Our faithfol line shall Gasdinbr's worth rohearse. 
The bleeding hero, and the martyr'd saint, 
Transcends the poet's pen, the herald's paint 
His the best path to fame that e*er was trod. 
And surely his a gbrious it^ to God. 



ON UK. SIBLEr, OV STUDIUM. 

Herb lies an honest man ! without pretence 
To more than prudence, and to common sense j 
MTk) knew no vanity, disguise, nor art, 
Who scom*d all language foreign to the heart 
Diffusive as the light his bounty spread, 
Cloth'd were the naked, and the hungry fed. 

'*. These be bis honours '" honouii that disclaim 
The blazon'd scuteheon, and the herald's fame ! 
Honours ! which boast defiance to the grave. 
Where, ^ite of Anstis, rots the garter'd knave. 



ON A LADT, WMO BAD ^BOUSED UNDER A CANCER. 

Stramgbr, these dear remains contain*d a mind 
As infanU guileless, and as angels kind. 
Ripening for Heav'n, by pains and sufferings try*d 
To pain superior, and unknown to pride. 
Calm and serene beneath affliction's rt>d. 
Because she gave her willing heart to God. 
Because she trusted in her Saviour's pow'r. 
Hence firm and fearless in the dying hour ! 

No venal Muse this faithful picture draws. 
Blest saint ! desert like yours extorts applause. 
Oh ! let a weeping friend discharge his due. 
His debt to worth, to excellence, and you ! 



VARIOUS PIECES. 



j4S invocation of happiness. 

AFTER THE ORIENTAL MANNER OP SPEECH. 

1. Tkll me, O thou fairest among virgins, whei^ 

dost thou lay tliy meek contented head ? 

2. Dost thou dwell upon the mountains ; dost thou 

make thy cou«-h in the rallies ? 

3. In the still watches of the night have I thought 

upon my fair-one ; yna, in the Tisions of tb« 
night have 1 punjucd thecj^^ 

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COTTONS 



4. When 1 awoke, my nedKatioii wu opoo tbee, 

and the day waa ipent in tearcli after thy em- 

5. Why dost tliou flee from me, as the tender hind, 

or the young roe upon the hills ? 

6. Without thy presence m vain bluihes the rose, in 

vain glows the niby, the cinnamon breatbeth 
its fragrance in vain. 

7. Shall I make thee a house of the rich cedars of 

Lebanon ? shall 1 perfume it with all the i4>ices 
of Arabia? Wilt thou be tempted irtth Sabean 
odours, with myrrh, frankincense, and aloes ? 

8. Doth my fair-one delight in palaces— dotli she 

gladden the hearts of kings ? The palaces are 
DOC a meet residence i5or my beloved— the 
princes of tie Earth are not favoured with the 
smiles of her countenance. 

9. My fair-one is meek and humble, she dwellefh 

among the cottages, she tendeth the sheep upon 
the mountams, and Iteth down amidst the flocks. 
The lilies of the field are ber couch, and the 
Heavens ber canopy. 

10. Her words are smoother than oil, more powerful 
than wine ; ber voice is as the voice of the 
turtle Hlbve. 

11. Thou crownestthe innocence of the husband- 
man, and the reward of virtue is with thee. 

TIME, 
Time and chance happeneth to them all. 

Ecclesiast cb. ix. ver. 11. 

Readeb, if fond of wonder and surprise, 
Behold in me ten thousand wonders rise. 
Should I appear quite partial to my cause. 
Shout my own praise, and vindicate applause; 
Do not arraign my modesty or sense. 
Nor deem my character a vain pretence. 
Know then 1 boast an origin and date 
Coeval with tlie Sun — without a mate 
An offspring I beget ip number more 
Then all the crowded sands which form the shore. 
That instant they are born, my precious breed 
Ah me ! expire — yet my departed seed 
Euter like spectres, with commissionM pewer, 
The secret chamber at the midnight hour ; 
Pervade alike the palace, and the shed, ' 

The statesman's closet, and the rustic's bed ; 
Serene and sweet, like envoys from the skies. 
To all the good, the virtuous, and the wise ; 
But to the vicious breast remorse they bring. 
And bite like serpents, or like scorpions sting. 

Being and bir^ to sciences I give. 
By me they rise thro* infancy and live ; 
By me meridian excellence display. 
And, like autumnal fruits, by me decay. 
When poets, and when painters are no more. 
And all the feuds of rival wits are o'er ; 
Tis mine to Gx their merit end their claim, 
I judge their works to daikn<*88 or to fame. 
I am a monarch, whose vwtorious hands 
No craft eludes, no regal power withstaods. 
My annals prove such mighty conquests won. 
As shame the puny feats of Philip's son. 
But tbo' a kmg, I seldom sway alone, 
The goddeaa Fortune often shares my tfarone. 
The human eye detects our blended mle. 
Her* we exalta knave, and thera a Utal 



POEMS. 

Ask yoo what powers our lOfereign laws obey ? 
Creation is our empire — we convey 
Sceptres and crowns at will— as we ordain, 
Kings abdicate their thrones, ami pea«ants reign. 

Lovers to us address the fervent prayer; 
Tis ours to soften or subdue the foir t 
We now like angels smile, and now destroy* 
Now bring, or blast, the long expected joy. 
At our fair shrine ambitious churchmen bow. 
And crave the mitre to adoni the brow. 
Go to the inns of court— the learned drudge 
Implores our friendship to commence a judge. 
Go, and consult the sons of Warwick Lane ; 
They own our favours, and adore our reign. 
Theirs is the gold, »tis true— but all men see 
Our claim is better founded to the fee. 

Reader, thus sublunary worlds we guide, 
Thus o'er your natal planets we preside. 
Kingdoms and kings are ours— to us they fall* 
We carve, their fortunes, and dispose of all. 
Nor think that kings alone engross our choice 
The cobler sits attentive to our voice. 

But since my colleague is a fickle she. 
Allure my colleague, and depend on me. 
Either she sees not, or with partial eyes. 
Either she grants amiss, or she denies. 
But I, who pity those that wear her chain. 
Scorn the capricious measures of her reign; 
In every gift, and every grace excel, 
And seldom fisil their hopes, who use me welL 
Yet tho* in me unnumber'd treasures ^hine, 
Superior to the rich Pemvian mine ! 
Thu* men to my indulgence hourly owe 
The choicest of their comforts here below : 
(For men's best tenure, as the worid agree. 
Is all a perquisite deriv'd from me) 
Still man's my foe ! utigrateful man, I say. 
Who mediutes my murder every day. 
What various scenes of death do men prepare ! 
And what assassinations plot the fair ! 
But know assuredly, who treat me ill. 
Who mean to rob me, or who mean to kill j 
Who view me with a cold regardless eye. 
And let my favours pass unheeded by ; 
They shall lament their folly when too late ; 
So mourns the prodigal his lost esUte 1 

While they who with superior forethought Uert, 
Store all my lessons in their fisithful breast ; 
(For Where's the prelate, who can preach like m^ 
With equal reasoning, and persuasive plea,) 
Who know that I am always on my wings, 
And never stay in compliment to kings ; 
Who therefore watch me with an eagle's sight. 
Arrest my pinions, or attend my flight ; 
Or if perchance they loitered in the race, 
CMde theh- slow footsteps, and improve their pace; 
Yes, these are Wisdom's sons, and when they die. 
Their virtues shall exalt them to the sky. 



AN ENIGMA: 

IHSCftlBID TO Miss t, 

Cloi, I boast celestial date. 

Ere time began to roll ; 
So wkle my power, my sceptra ipum^ 

The limits of the pole. 

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I firmn the mystic wunib of night, 
The Almighty calUd the Earth ; 
I mird npoa the iniaDt world. 
And grac*d the woodroos birth. 

Thro' the vast renlms of boundless space, 

I traverse uooootroird ; 
iad starry orbs of proudest blaze 

Inscribe my name in gold. 
There 's not a monarch in the north 

But bends the supplant knee ; 
the hangbty sultan waves his power. 

And owns superior me. 
Both by the sav*age and the saint 

My empire stands confest ; 
1 thaw the ice on Greenland's coast. 

And fire the Scythian's breast. 
Tb me the gay aerial tribes 

Their glittering plumage owe ; 
With all the Tariegated pride 

lliat decks the feathered beau. 
The m ean e st reptiles of the land 

My boonty too partake; 
I paint the insect's trembling wing. 

And gild the crested snake. 
Sorrey the nations of the deep, 

You'll there my power behold ; 
My pencil drew the pearly scale, 

And fin bedropt with gold. 
I give the Tirgin*8 lip to glow, 

I claim the crimson dye ; . 
Mine is the n»e which spruids the cheek. 

And oiine the brilliant eye. 
Then speak, my lair j for surely thoa 

My name canst b«t descry ; 
Who pnre to thee with lavish hands 

What thousands I deny. 



THE FIRESIDE. 

DtAt doe, wyie the busy crowd. 
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud. 

In foHjr's maze advance ^ 
Tho* singularity and pride 
Be calPd onr choice, weMl st^ aside, 

Nir join the giddy dance. 
ftom the gay world we'll oft retire 
To oor own funily and fire. 

Where love our hours employs ; 
Ho noisy neigfabour enters here, 
Ko intermeddling stranger near. 

To spoil our heartfelt joys. 
If nlid happineis we prize, 
WithiD oor breast this jewel lies. 

And tbey are fools who roam ; 
The world hath nothing to bestow, 
finoa our own selves our bliss most flow, 

And that dear hut our home. 
Of rest was Noah's dofve bereft. 
When with impatient wing she left 

That safe retreat, the arfc ; 
Gviag her vnin eacnrskms o*er, 
The disappQintod bird once mora 

fiqdcf'd the s«a«d bark. 
TW feob apom Hymen^ gentle powfrt, 
Wsb vha iBpiw* bit goUiB hom, 



By sweet experience k'ow, 
That marriage, rightly understood, 
Give3 to the tender and the good, 

A paradise heiow. 

Our babes shall richest comforts bring ; 
If tutor'd right, they'll prove a spring. 

Whence pleasures ever rise : 
We'll form their minds with studious care. 
To all that's manly, good, and fair. 

And train them for the skies. 
While they -our wisest hours engage, 
They'll j»»y our y<ii»th, support our age. 

And crown our hoary hairs ; 
They'll grow in virtue every day. 
And they our fondest loves repay. 

And recompense our cares. 
No borrow 'd joys \ they're all our own, 
While to the world we live unknown. 

Or by the world forgot : 
Monarchs ! we envy not your state. 
We look with pity on the great. 

And bless our humble lot. 
Oor portion is not large, indeed. 
But then how little 4o we need. 

For nature's calls are few ! 
In this the art of living lies. 
To want no more than may suffice^ 

And make that little do. 
We'll therefore relish with content, 
Whate'er kind Providence has sen^ 

Nor aim bej'ond our power ; 
For, if our stock be very small, 
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all. 

Nor lose the present hour. 
To be resifn'd when ills betide. 
Patient when favours are deny'd. 

And pleas'd with favours given ; 
Dear Cloe, this is wisdotn's part. 
This is that incciise of ihe h(^rt, 

Whose fragrance smelb to Heaven. 
We'll ask no long protracted treat. 
Since winter-life is seldom sweet ; 

But, when our feast is o'er. 
Grateful from table we'll arise. 
Nor grudge our sons, with envious eyes. 

The relics of oor store. 
Thus hand in hand thro' life we'll go; 
Its checker'd paths of joy and woe 

With cautious steps we'll tread; 
Quit its vain scenes without a tear. 
Without a trouble, or a fear. 

And mingle with the dead. 
While conscience, like a faithful friend. 
Shall thro' the gloomy vale attend. 

And cheer our dying breath ; 
Shall, when all other comforts cease. 
Like a kmd angel whisper peace, 
And smooth the bed of death. 



TO SOME CHILDREN 

LISTBNINO TO A LARK* 

8ee the lark prunes his active wings. 
Rises to Heaven, and soars, and sings. 
His morning hymns, his mid-day lays. 
Art one continued song of praise» r 

.oogle 



20 



COTTON'S fOEMS 



He speaks his Maker all he can. 
And shames the silent tongruc of man. 

When the dechning orl» of liplit 
Reminds bim of appruaobing: night. 
His warbling vespers swell his breast. 
And as he sings be smks to rest. 

Shall birds iostnicttve lessons (each. 
And we be deaf to wfaat they preach ? 

No, ye dear nestlings of my heart, 
Co, act the wiser soogstej-'s part. 
Spnm your warm coach at early dawn. 
And with your God begin the nii^m. 
To him your gratefnl tribute pay 
Thro* every pt* riod of the day. 
T» him your evening songs direct ; 
His eye shall watch, his arm protect. 
Tho* darkness reigns, he's with you still. 
Then sleep, my babes, and fear no ilL 



TO A CHILD OF FIVE TEARS OLD. 

Fairrst 6ower, all flowers excelling, 

•Which in Milton's page we see ; 
Tlu^ers of Eve's cmbower'd duelling * 

Are, my fair one, types of thee. 
Mark, my Polly, how the roses 

Emulate thy damask cheek ; 
How the bnd its sweets discloses— -« 

Bnds thy opeinng bloom bespieak^ 
Lilies are by plain dh*ection 

Emblemn of a double kind ; 
Emblaros of thy fiur complexion. 

Emblems of thy fairer mind. 

But, dear girl, both flowers and beanty 

Blossom, fatle, and die away ; 
Then pursue good sense ami duty. 

Evergreens ! which ne'er ikcay. 



ON LORD tOBHAM'S GAlWEy. 

It puzzles much the sages* brains. 

Where Dlen stood of yore. 
Some place it ia Arabia's phiins, 

Some say it is no more. 
But Cbbham can these talcs confute^ 

As all the curious know ; 
For he hath prov'd, beyond dispute. 

That Paradise is Stow. 



TO MORROW. 
Fereunt et imputantur. 

To Moaaow, didst thou say f 

Methougbt I heard Horatio say. To morrow. 

Go to — 1 will not hear of it — To morrow ! 

'Tis a sharper, who stakes his pemiry 

Against thy plenty — who t-vkes U»y ready cash, 

And pays thee nought but wishes, h()|ies,and profuiscs, 

The currency of idiots. Injurious Ixinkrupt, 

That gulls the easy creditor ! — To morrow ! 

' Alluding to MiItoQ*s description of Cve's bower. 



It is a period nowhere to be found 
In all the hoary regiiOers of time. 
Unless perchance in the fool's eakuidar. 
Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society 
With those who own it ^!to^ my Hoimti«, 
'TIS Fancy's child, and Folly is its fiither; 
Wrought of such stuff as dreams are ; and baseleat 
As the fantastic visions of the evening. 

But soft, my friend — arrest the present momenta | 
For be assur'd, they all are arrant tell-tales ; 
And t ho' their fliglit be silent, and their path tracklean 
As the wing'd couriers of the air. 
They post to Heaven, and there record (by folly. 
Because, tho' station'd on the hnportant watefa. 
Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentmel, 
Didst let them pass unmAicM, unimprov'd. 
And know, for that thou slnmber'dst on the gaartU 
Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar 
For every fugitive : and when thou thus 
Shalt stand impleaded at the higli tribunal 
Of huod-winkt justice, who shall teH thy audit i 

Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio ; 
Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings. 
'Tis of more worth than kingdoms ! far more precious 
Than all the criitisoo treasures of life*s fountain I — 
Oh I let it not elude thy grasp, but, like 
The good old patriarch upon record, 
Hoki the fleet angel &st until he bless thee. 



AN ALLUSION 
TO HORACfe, ODK XVI. BOOK VL 

INSCRIBED TO H. W. ESQ, 

Otinm divos rogat hi patenti 
Prensns iGgsso, siiftnl atra nottet 
Coodkiit lunam, aeque certa fh'gent 

vSidera nautis, &a 

Sat, heavenly Quiet, propitious nymph of light. 
Why art thou thus cooceal'd from human sight i 
Thr'd of life's follies, fkin I'd gain thy arms. 
Oh ! Uke me panting to thy peacefol dharros ; 
Sooth my wild soul in thy soft fetters eanght, 
And calm the surges of tomaituous thougbt. 
Thee, goddess, thM alt states of l*fe implore. 
The merchant seeks thee on the fbr«ign shore < 
Thro' finozen zones and burning isles he flies. 
And tempts the various horroun of the skies. 
Nor frozen zones, nor burning isles control 
That thirst of gain, that fever of the sonL 
But mark the change-— impending storms afirigfat. 
Array 'd in all the majesty of night — 
The rairihg winds, discharg'd their mystic caves, 
Rr^r the dire signal to th' insulting waves, 
llie foaming legions charge tlic ril)s of oak. 
And the pale fiend presents at ever>' Stroke. 
To thee the unhappy wretch in pale despair 
Bends the weak knee, and lifls the hand in prayer | 
Views the Bad cheat, and swears he4l ne'er again 
Range the hut clime, or trust the fiikhlesi HMdn, 
Or own so meaa a thtaight, that thoQ art briVd by 
gain. 
To ih^ the hamess'd chiief devotes his %rdMli, 
And braves the thousand avenues of Aeatb; 
Now red with fury seeks th' efttbstttled pla^. 
Wades floods of 99re, mnd scales tbe UHs <tf daus ^- 
Xow on the fort with winged wgeanoe fiiUi^ 
And tempts the sevenfold thunden of^dM walls. 



ALLUSION TO HORACE . • . EPITAPH. 



«l 



Jf littmlMi mam ! the vyaiph of peace disdains 

Tbe roarofcaMioQa, and the smo^e of plains : 

With miUer iacenae let thy altars blaze. 

And in a softer note attempt her praise. 

What vaiiows herds attend the virgin's gate, 

AbT<K;t in wealth, and impotent in state ! 

A cro9»4 of offerings on the altar lie. 

And idly strive to tempt her from the sky : 

But here the rich magnificence of kings 

Are specious trifles all, and all unheeded things. 

No ootvard show celestial boionis warms, 

The gaiidy purple boasts inglorious charms ; 

The guld here, conscious of its abject birth. 

Only presumes to be superior earth. 

In vaih the gem its spari^ling tribute pays, 

Aud meanly tremnlates in borrow*d rays. 

On tbese the nymph with scornful smiles lofjks down, 

Nor e'er elects the farourite of a crown. 

Supremely great, she views ns from afar. 

Nor deigns to own a sultan or a czar. 

Did real happiness attend on sute. 

Now wonld I pant and labour to be great ' 

To court I'd hasten with impetuous speed ; 

But to be great 's U> be a wretch indeed. 

I speak of sacred truths ; believe me, Hugh, 
The real wadts of nature are but few. 
Poor are the charms of gold — a generous heart 
Wooki bhisb to uwn a bliss, that these impart 
Tis he alone the Muse dares happy call, 
^*ho with superior thought enjoys liis little all. 
Wfthin his bftest no frantic passions roll. 
Soft are tbe motions of the virtuous souL 
Tbe night in silken slumbers glides away. 
And a sweet calm leads in tbe smiling day. 

What antic notions form the human mind ! 
IVrversely mad, and obstinately blind. 
Life in its large extent is scarce a span. 
Yet, wondrous frenzy ! great designs we plan, 
And shoot our thoughts beyond the date of man. 

Bfan; that vain creature 's but a wretched elf, 
And lives at constant enmity with self ; 
Svears to a southern climate he'll repair. 
But who can change the mind by changing air } 
Italians plains may purify the blood. 
And with a nobler purple paint the flood ; 
Bat can soft zephyrs aid th' ill-shapen thigh. 
Or form to beauty the distorted eye } 
Cso they with life inform tbe thoughtless clay ? 
Tht>n a kind gaJe might waft my cares away. 
Whrre roves the Muse ? — ^tisall a dream, my friend. 
All a w'dd thought— for Care, that ghastly fiend. 
That mighty prince of the infernal powers, 
Haunts the still watches of the midnight hours. 
Id vain the man tbe night's protectiun sought, 
Gsre stings like poisonous asps to fury wrought. 
And wakes the mind to all the pains of thought. 
Kot the wmg'd ship, that sweeps the level main, ^ 
Hot tbe young roe that bounds along the plain. 
Are svift as Care — that monster leaves behmd 
Tbe aerial coorser aiMl tbe fleeter wind ; 
Thro* every clime performs a constant part. 
And sheaths its.poinfnl daggers in the heart. 

Ab ! why should man an*idle game pursue. 
To fotore may4>es stretch the distant view } 
May more exaJted thoughts our hours employ. 
And wisely strive to taste the present joy. 
Life 's an inconstant sea — the prudent ply 
WAh every oar to improve th' auspicious sky : 



But if black clouds the angry Heav*ns deform, 
A cheerful mind will sweelcn every storm. 
The* fools expect their joys to flow sincere, 
Yet none can boost eternal sunshine here. 

l*he youthful chief, that like a snmoicr flower 
Shines a whole life in one precariou!; hour. 
Impatient of restraint demands the* tight. 
While painted triumphs swim before his sight 
Forbear, brave youth, thy bold designs give o*er, 
Ere the next mom shall <Uwn, thouMt be no more ; 
Invidious Death sliaH blast thy 0|)eniiig bloom, 
Scarce blown, thou fad*st, scarce bom, thou meet'st a 
tomb. 

What tho', my friend, the young are swept away, 
Untimely cropt in the proud blaze of day ; 
Yet when life's spring on purple winc^ is flown, 
And the brisk flood a noisome puddle grown ; 
When the dark eye shall roll its orb for light, 
And the rolPd orb confess impervioos night ; 
When once untunM the ear's contorted cell. 
The silver cords unbrace the soundhh: shell ; 
Thy sick'niiig ^ul no more a joy shall fimi, 
Music no more shall stay thy labVing mind. 
Tiie breathing canvas glows in vain for thee. 
In vain it blooms a gay eternity. 
With thee the statue's iM)asts of life are o*er. 
And CaBsar animates the hrasx no more. 
The flaming mby, and the rich brocade. 
The sprightly ball, the mimic masquerade 
Now charm in vain — in vain the jovial gwl 
'V^nth blushing goblets plies the dormant clod. 

Then why thus fond to dVaw superfluous breath. 
When every gasp protracts a pa'uiful death ? 
Age is a ghastly scene, cares, doubts, and fears. 
One dull rough road of sighs, groans, pains, and tears. 

Let not ambitious views usurp thy soul, 
Ambition, friend, ambition grasps tbe pole 
The lustful eye on wealth'o bright strand you fix. 
And sigh for grandeur and a coach and six ; 
With golden stars you long to blend your fete. 
And with the gartcrM lordling slide in sUte. 
An humbler theme my pensive hours employs,' 
( Hear ye sweet Heavens, and speed tlie distant joys J 
Of these possessed I M scorn to court renown. 
Or bless the happy coxcombs of the town.) 
To me, ye gods, these only gifts impart. 
An easy fortune, and a cheerful heart ; 
A little muse, and innocently gay. 
In sportive song to trifle cares away. 
Two wishes gainM, love forms the last and best. 
And Heaven's bright roaster-piece shall crown the 
rest. 



AN EPlTJPif 



UPON MR. THO.MAS STRONG, 

WMO 01 ED OM THE 26tH OF OECBMBER, 1756. 

In action pmdent, and in word sincere. 
In friendship faithful, and in honour clear j 
Thro* life's vain scenes the same in every part, 
A steady judgment, and an honest heart. 
Thou vannt'st no honours — nil thy boast a mind 
As infents guileless, and ^s augels kind. 

When ask'd to whom these lovely tmths belong. 
Thy friends shall answer, weeping, «* Here lias 
;&raoMO." 



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K 



COTTON'S POUMS. 



EPITJPH 
UPON MISS GEE, 



triro oiBD ocTOBBR 25, 1736, «tat. 28. 

Bbautbous, nor known to pride, to friends sincere, 
. Mild to thy neighbour, to thyself severe j 
Unstained thy honour— and thy wit was such. 
Knew no extremes, nor little, nor too much. 
Few were thy years, and painful thro* the whole. 
Yet calm thy passage, and serene thy soul. 

Reader, amidst these sacred crowds that sleep », 
View this once lovely form, nor grudge to weep. — 
O Death, all terrible ! how sure thy hoar ! 
How wide thy conquests ! and how fell thy power ! 
"When youth, w.t, virtue, plead fur longer reign. 
When youth, when wit, when virtue plead in vam ; 
Stranger, then weep afresh — for know this clay 
Was once the good, the wise, the beautiful, the gay. 



REBUS. 

TffAT awftil name which ofl inspires 
Impatient hopes, and fond desires, 
Can to another pain impart. 
Awl thrill with fear the shuddVrag heart. 
Thi^ mystic wonl is often read 
0*er the still clinratxTS of the dead. 
Say, what contains the breathless clay,- 
When the fleet soul is wing'd away ? — 
Tlio?e marble monuments proclaim 
My little wily wanton's name. 

TOMBS. 



REBUS. 



The golden stem, with generous aid, 
Supports and feeds the fruitful blade. 
Tlie queen, who rul'd a thankless isle. 
And gladden'd thousands with her smile j^ 
(^lieu the weli-manag'd pound of gold 
DM more, than now the sum thrice told }) 
Th s stem of Ceres, and the fair 
Of Stuart's house, a name declare, 
Where goodness is with beauty joinM, 
Where queen and goddess both combined 
To form an emblem of the mind. 



REBUS. 

Thk light-footed female that bounds o'er the hills, 
That feeds among lilies, and drinks of the rills, 

And is fam'd for being tender and true ; 
Which Solomon deemed a simile rare, 
To liken the two pretty breasts of his fair, 

Ib the name of the nymph I pursue. 

ROB. 



ANOTHER. 

" TBLt me the fiair, if such a fair there be," 
Said Venus to her son, " that rivals me." 

i The author is supposed to be inscribing the cha- 
racter of the deceased upon her tomb, and therefore 
** crowds that sleep,*' mean the dead. 



" Mark the tall tree," cried Cupid t^ the dame, 
** That from its siWer hark derives its name ; 
The studious insect, that, with wondrous pow'rs. 
Extracts myf^terious sweets from fragrant flow'rs j 
Proclaim the nymph to whom all hearts submit. 
Whose sweetness softens majesty and wit" 

AiMBT. 



80MB HASTY RHIMIS 

ON SLEEP. 

Mystbr tous ,deity, impart 

From whence thou com'st, and what thoa art. 

I feel thy pow'r, thy reign I bless. 

But what I tieel, I can't express. 

Thou bind'st my limbs, but canst n't restnuB 

The busy workings of the brain. 

All nations of the air and land 1 

Ask the soft blessing at thy hand. 
The reptiles of the frozen zone 
Are close attendants on thy throne; 
Where painted iMisiiisks enfold 
Tlieir azure scales in rolts of gold. 

The slave, that's destm'd to the oar. 
In one kind vision swims to shore ; 
l*he lover meets the willing fair. 
And fondly grasps impassive air. 
Last night the happy miser told 
Twice twenty thousand pounds in gold. 

The purple tenant of the crown 
Implores thy aid on beds of down : 
White Lublnn, and 'liis healthy bride. 
Obtain what monarchs are denied. 

The garter'd statesman thou wouldst own. 
But rebel conscience spurns thy throne ; 
Braves all tbt* poppies of the fields^ 
And the ftimM gum * that Turkey yields. 

While the good man, oppress'd with pain,. 
Shall (*ourt thy smiles, nor sue in vain. 
Propitious thou' it his prayer attend, 
And prove his guardian and his firiend. 
Thy faithful bands shall make his bed. 
And thy soft arm support his head. 



A REBUS. 

Tub name of themonarehthatabandon'd lus throne. 
Is the name of the fair, I prefer to bis crown. 

JAMES. 



A SONG. 

Tell me, my Cselia, why so coy. 

Of men so much afraid ; 
Caelia, ^s better far to die 

A mother than a maid. 
The rose, when past its damask hue. 

Is always out of favour ; 
And when the plum hath lost its blue. 

It loses too its flavoo/. 
To vernal flow'rs the rolling years 

Returning beauty bring ; 
But feded once, tbou'lt bloom no more. 

Nor know a second spring. 

i Or rather mspissated juice, opium. 



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HYMN OPESu 



2S 



A SUfJDAY HYMN, 



IN IMITATION OF Dt. WATTB. 



This is the day the Lord of life 

Ascended to the skie« ; 
My thoughts, pursue the lofty tbeme» 

ifod to the Heav'ns anse. 
Lrt no rain cares divert my mind 

FniiD this celestial road ; 
Kor aJl the honours of the Earth 

Detain my soul from God. 
Think of the splendours of that place. 

The joys that are on high ; 
Nor meanly rest contented here, 

With worlcb beneath the iky, 
UeaT*n is the birth-place of the nints. 

To Heav*n their souls ascend ; 
Th' Almighty owns his fevourit^ rac^ 

As father and as friend. 
Ob ! may these lovely titles prove 

My comfort and defence, 
When the sick couch shall be my lot. 

And death shall call me hence. 



^iV ODE ON THE MESSIAH. 

Whew man had disobey^ his Lord, 
Vindictive Justice drew the sword ; 
" The rebel and his race shall die.'* 
He spake, and thunders burst the sky. 
Lo ! Jesus pardoning grace displays. 
Nor tbu!ider» roll, nor lightnings blaze. 
Jesus, the Saviour stands coufest. 
Id ray^ of mildest glories dresL 
Ai round him preits th' angelic crowd, 
Mercy and Truth he calls aloud ; 
The smiling cherube wing'd to view. 
Their pinions sounded as they flew. 
" Ye fisTountes of the throne, arise, 
Bear the Ktr^nge tidings thro' the skies; 
Say, man, th» apostate rebel, lives ; 
Say, Jesus bleeds, and Heav*n forgives. 
" In pity to the fallen race, 
ril take their nature and their place j 
ril bleed, their pardon to procure, 
I'll die, to make that pardon sure.** 
Now Jesus leaves his blest abode, 
A Virgin's womb receives the God. 
\llien the tenth Moon had wan*d on Earth, 
A Vincin*8 womb disclosed the birth. 
New praise employs th' ethereal throng. 
Their golden harps repeat the song ; 
And angels waft th' immortal strains 
Td hunkble BethPem*8 happy plains. 
While there tbe guardians of the sheep 
By mght their fiuthful vigils keep. 
Celestial notes their ears delight. 
And floods of glory drown their sight 
When Gabriel thus, " Exult, ye swams, 
Jesos, your own Messiah, reigns. 
Ant, tbe royal babe behold, 
Jem, by andeot bwrds foretold. 



" To David's town direct yonr way. 
And shout. Salvation's born to day ; 
There, in a manger's mean disguise, 
You 'II 6nd the sovereign of the skies." 
What joy Salvation's sound imparts. 
You best can tell, ye guileless hearts ; 
Whom no vain science led astray. 
Nor taught to scorn Salvation's way. 
Tho' regal purple spurns these truths, 
Maintain your ground, ye chosen youths; 
Brave the stem tyrant's lifted rod. 
Nor blosh to own a dyiii); God. 
Uliat ! tho* the sages of the Earth 
Proudly dispute this wondrous birth ; 
Tho' learning mocks Salvation's voice. 
Know, Heav'n applauds your wiser choice. 
Oh ! be this wiser choice my own ! 
Bear me some seraph, to his throne. 
Where the rapt soul dissolves away 
In visions of eternal day. 



AN ODE ON THE NEJT YEAR. 
Lord of my life, inspire my sopg. 
To Thee my miblest powers belong ; 
Grant me thy favourite seraph's flame, 
To ?ing the glories of thy name. 
My birth, my fortune, friends, and health. 
My knowledge too, superior wealth ! 
I/>r*l of my life, to thee I owe ; 
Teach me to practise what I know. 
Ten thousand flivours claim my song. 
And each demands an angel's tongue ; 
Mercy sits smiling on the wings 
Of every moment as it springs. 
But oh ! with infinite surprise 
I see returning years arise j 
When unimprov'd the former score. 
Lord, wilt tliou trust me still with mor^ ! 
Thousands this period hop'd to see ! 
Deny'd to thousands, granted me ; 
Thou^nds ! that weep, and wish, and pray 
For those rich hours I throw away. 
The tribute of my heart receive, 
*Tis the poor all I have to give ; 
Should it prove fisithless, ll>rd, I'd wrest 
The bleeding traitor from my breast 



EPITAPH 

ON JOHM DUKE OF BRIDGWATBI, 
WHO DIBD IM THE TWBNTY-FIRST YEAR Of ■!• A0% 

1747-8. 
Intent to hear, and bounteous to bestow, 
A mind that melted at another's woe ; 
Studious to act the self-approving part. 
That midnight-music of the honest heart f 
Those silent joys th* illustrious youth.possess'd. 
Those cloudless sunshines of the spotless breast t 
From pride of peerage, and from folly free. 
Life's early mnm, fair virtue ! gave to thee ; 
Forbad the tear to steal from sorrow's eye. 
Bade aoxknis poverty forget to sigh ; 



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24 

Like Tituf, knew (be value of a day, 

Aod want went smiling from bis gates awa^. 

The rest were honoursixMrrowM from the tfardue j 
These honours, Eosetok, were all thy own I 



A FABLE. 

It seems, an owl, in days of yore. 
Had turnM a thousand volumes o^er. 
His fame f»r literature extends. 
And strikes the eaii of partial friends. 
Tbey weighed the learning of the fowl, 
Aod thought hira a prodigious owl I 
From such applause what could betide I 
It only cockered him in pride. 

ExtolI'd fat sciences and arts, 
Hb busom bum'd to show hb parts | 
(No wonder that an owl of spirit. 
Mistook his vanity for merit.) 
He shows insatiate thirst of praise. 
Ambitious of the poet's bays. 
Percb'd on Parnassus all night long, 
He hoots a sonnet or a song ; 
And while the villagi heir his note, 
Tbey curse the screammg whore-soii^s thixMC 

Amidst the darkness of the night. 
Our fealher'd poet wings his flight. 
And, as capricious fate ordains, 
A chimney's treacherous sununit gains ; 
Which much impair»d by wind and weather, 
Down fall the bricks and bh^ together. 

The owl expands his azure eyes. 
And sees a Non-con's study rise ; 
The wads were deck'd with hallow'd bands 
Of wortliies, by th' engraver's hands ; 
All champions for the good old cause ! 
Whose conscience int^rfer'd with lawsj 
But yet no foes to king or people, 
Tho' mortal foes to church and steeple. 
Baxter, with apostolic grace, 

Display'd Ins metzoUnto face ; 

While here and there some luckier nint 

AtUin*d to dignity of paint 

Rang'd in proportion to their sise. 

The books by due gradations rifte. 

Here the good fathers lodg'd their trust j 

There zealous Calvin slept in dust 

Here Pool his learned treasures keeps ; 

There Fox o'er dying martyrs weeps ; 

While reams on reams insatiate drink 

Whole deluges of Henry's ink. 
Columns of sermons pil'd on high 

Attract the bird's admiring eye. 

Those works a good old age acouir'd. 

Which had in manuscript expird ; 

For manuscripts, of fleeting date. 

Seldom survive their infhnt state. 

Ilie healthiest live not half their days» 

But die a thousand various ways j 

Sometimes ingloriously apply'd 

To purposes the Muse shall hide. 

Or, shouW they meet no fate below. 

How oft tobacco proves their foe.! 

Or else some cocik purloins a leaif, 

To singe her fowl, or save her beef; 

But sermons *8cape both fate and firt. 

By ooqgr^gsKioiMd desire. 



COltON'S POEMS. 



Display'd at large qioa (he table 
Was Bunyan's much-Mlmir'd fable ; 
And as his PMgrnn sprawlmg ley. 
It chanc'd the owl advanc'd that way. 
The bird exploies the pious dream, 
And plans a visionary scheme ; 
Determined, as he rrad the sage. 
To copy from the tinker's page. 

The thief now quits his leam*d abode. 
And scales aloft the sooty road ; 
Flies to Parnassus' top once more, 
Reaolv'd to dream as well as snore ; 
And what he dqeamt by day, the wight. 
In writing o'er, consumes the night. 

Plum'd with conceit he calls aloud, 
And thus bespeaks the purblind crowd ; 
** Say not, that man alone's a poet. 
Poets are owls — my verse shall show it" 
And while he read his labouHd lays. 
His blue-ey'd brothers hooted praise. 
But how his female mate by turns 
With pity and with choler bums ; 
When thus her consort she addrc^, 
And all hi*r various thoughts express'd. 

'* Why, prithee, husband, rant no mOr^, 
'TIS time to give these follies o'er. 
Be wise, and follow my advice — 
Go— catch your family some mice. 
Twere better to resume your trade. 
And spend your nights in a m buscad e . 
What! if you fatten by your schemes. 
And £sre luxuriously in dreams I 
While you kleal mice are carving, 
I and my fiunily are starvhig. 
Reflect upon our nuptial hours. 
Where will yon find a brood like oar's F 
Our ofispring might become a queen. 
For finer owlets ne'er were seen !" 

« 'Ods— blue 1" the suriy hob mfif% 
** rU amply for my heirs provide. 
Why, Madge! when CoUey Gbber dies, 
Thou'lt see thy mate a lanr'ate rise ; 

For never poets hekl this place. 

Except descendants of our race.** 
" But soft"— -the female sage rgolrfi— 

'^ Say you aljur'd the purring kind | 

And nobly leh inglorious rats 

To vulgar owls, or sordid cats. 

Say, you the healing art essay'd. 

And piddled in the doctor's trade ; 

At least you'd eai^ us good provisions. 

And better this than teribbling visions. 

A due regard to me, or self, 

Wou'd always make ^u dream of pelf; 

And when you dreamt your nights away. 

You'd realize your dreams by day. 

Hence for superior gains wou'd rise, 

And I be fot and you be wise." 

*' But, Madge, tho' 1 appland your scheaia!, 

You'd wish my patients still to dream ! 

Waking they'd laugh at my vocatioOr- 

Or disapprove my education ; 

And they detest yodr solemn hob. 

Or take me for professor L — k" 
Equipt wiChtio^d^ and with pl11« 

He takes bis licence out to kllL 

Practis'd in all a doctor's airs. 

To Batson's/senate be repairs, 



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tllDDLES. 



fS 



Dress'd in ha flowing wig of koowlecTge, 
To ^reet his brethreD of the college; 
TUei up the papers of the day, 
Perhaps lor wmnt of what to say ; 
Tbio* eT*ry column he pnrraes. 
Alike adrerttsemeots anid newt ; 
O'er lisU of cureft with rapture rant. 
Wrought by Apollo'K natural sont ; 
Admires the rich Hibernian stock 
Of docton, Henry, Ward, and Rodu 
He dweUt on each illustrious name. 
And u^ at once for fees and fame. 
Nov, like the doctors of to day, 
Retiios his pufierv too in pay. 
Around bis reputation flew. 
His practice with his credit grew. 
At kogth the court receives the sage. 
And locdlings in his cause engage. 
He dupes, beside plebeian fowls. 
The whole nobility of owls. 
Thus er'ry where he gains renown. 
And 6 lis bis purse, and thins the town. 



ADDiesseo 
TO A YOUNG LADY, 

WHOSB FAVOim BIRO 
WAI ALMOST KILLED BY A FALL FROM Hit FINGBR. 

At Tracy, in a wanton mood. 
Upon his Lucy *s finger stood, 

Ambitious to be free ; 
With bmst elate he eager tries, 
^ flight to reach the distant skies, 

And gain bis liberty. 
Ah ! hickless bird, what tho' caressed. 
And fondled in the fair one's breast. 

Taught e*en by her to sing; 
Know that to che<sk thy temper wild. 
And make thy manners soft and mild, 

Thy mistress cot thy wing. .^ 

The feather'd tribe, who cleorr the air, 
Thdr weights by equal plumage bear. 

And quick escape onr pow'r ; 
Not 10 with Tmey, dear delight, 
tiii ibortenM wing repressed his flight. 

And threw him on the floor. 
StonaM with the fall, he seem*d to die, 
Forqoickly clos'd his sparkling eye. 

Scarce heavM his pretty breast ; 
Alaimed for her {avonrite care, 
Lacy assumes a pensive air. 

And is at h^rt distrest. 
The itoic soul, in gravest strain. 
May call these feelings light and vain. 

Which thus from fondness Ojw ; 
Yet, tf the bard arightly deems, 
Tii nitQre*& (bunt which feeds the streamt 

That purest joys bestow. 
Sqj thoo*d it be fair Lncy's £ate, 
Whene'er she wills a change of state. 

To boast a mother's name ; 
These feelhigs then, thou chaitnmg maid, 
fai brightest lines shall be disptay'd. 

And praise uocensor^d clahn. 



nWDlES. 

From the daik caverns of the Earth 
Our family derive their birth ; 
By nature we appear to view 
A rugged and a stubborn crew. 
But Vulcan's brawny sons, by art. 
Soften the hardness of our heart ; 
Give to a slender shape its grace. 
And a bright polish to our lace. 
Thus education makes us mild. 
Pliant and ductile as a child. 

Survey the attire of man, youMl tiac* 
Onr friendship for the human race. 
We love mankind, indeed we do. 
Our actions prove onr speeches tnie. 
But what is wondrous strange to name. 
The aged female is our flame. 
When strength decays, and optics fail. 
And cold and penury prevail, 
Onr labours spare the matron^s sight. 
We ask but faint supplies of light. 
Kindly our ancient girls regale. 
With food, with fuel, and with ale. 
We, as associates to mankind. 
All act our various parts assign*d. 
Xo useless hands obstruct onr schemM, 
We suit our numl>ers to our themes ; 
Hence only two of us apply. 
To form a bandage for the thigh ; 
But when the grey industrious Peg 
Demands a vestment for the leg, 
*Tis then in little crowds we join 
To aid the matron's wise design. 
Thus four or five of (is you'll see. 
And each as busy as a bee ; 
Besides a kind assistant near. 
Which Peg had stuck athwart her ear. 

Now lasses, if our name you'll telj. 
And vow youll always use us well 
We'll grant your wish to change your life. 
And make each fair a happy wife. « 

KNirnvc muma 



ANOTHEPi. 

To you, fair maidens, I address. 

Sent to adorn your life ; 
And she who first my name can guees. 

Shall first be made a wife. 

From the dark womb of mother Earth, 

To mortals* aid I come ; 
But ere 1 can receive my birth, 

I many shapes assume. 
Passive by nature, yet I'm made 

As active as the roe ; 
And oftentimes, with equal speed. 

Thro* flowery lawns I go. 

When wicked men their wealth consomc. 

And leave their children poor. 
To me their daughters often come. 

And I encrease their store. 
The women of the wiser kind. 

Did never once refuse me ; 
But yet I never once could find 

That maids of honour use mew 



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COTTON'S POEMS. 



The h\f hand and brilliant eye, . 

May char<li without my aid ; 
Beauty may strike the lover's eye. 

And love inspire the maid. 
But let the enchanting nymph be told. 

Unless I grace her life, 
9)c must hare wondrous store of gold. 

Or make a wretched wife. 
Altho' I never hope to rest, 

With Christians 1 go forth ; 
And while they worship to the east, 

I prostrate to the north. 
If you suspect hypocrisy. 

Or think roe insincere. 
Produce the zealot, who, like me. 

Can tremble and adhere. 



^tlDLI. 



ANOTHER. 

I AM by nature soft as silk, 
By nature too as white as milk | 
1 am a constant friend to man. 
And serve him every way 1 can. 
When dipt in wax, or plung*d in oil, 
I make his winter evenings smile ^ 
By India taught I spread his bed, 
Or deck his fevourite Celia*8 head ; 
Her gayest garbs I oft compose, 
Aud ah ! sometimes, 1 wipe her nose. 



ANOTHER. 

I AM a imall ▼diime, and frequently bound 

In silk, sattio, siivt-r, or gold ; 
My worth and my praises the A^ales resonnd. 

By females my science is told. 
My leaves are all scarlet, my letters are steel. 

Each letter contains a great treasure ; 
To the poor they spell lodging, fuel, and meal. 

To the rich, entertainment and pleasure. 
The sempstress explores me by day and by night, 

Not a page but she turns o'er and o'er ; . 
Tho* sometimes I injure the millincr*s sight, 

.Still 1 add to her credit and stoi^. 
Tis true I am seldom regarded by men. 

Yet what would the males do without me ? 
Let them boast of their head, or boast of their pen, 

Still rain is their boast if they flout me. 

MIBDLI BOOK. 



s 



PSALM xm. 

C)FFiWEn Majesty I how long 

Wilt thou concMd thy fiuse ? 
How long refuse my fainting soul 

The succours of thy grace ? 
While sorrow wrings my bleeding heart. 

And black despondence reigns, 
Satan exults at my complaints. 

And triumphs o*er my pains. 
Let thy retumhig sphit, Laid, 

Dispel the shades of night ; 
Smile on my poor deserted soul. 

My God, thy smiles are light , 



While fccoffers at thy 

Deride the pangs 1 feel. 
Deem my religion inaiocerep 

Or call it useless iscal. 
Yet will I ne*er repent my choice, 

1 Ul ne*er withdraw my trust ; 
I know thee. Lord, a pow'rful fnend. 

And kind, and wise, and just 

Tu doubt thy goodness woo'd be base 

Ingratitude in me ; 
Past favours shall renew my hopes. 

And fix my finth in thee. 

Indulgent God ! my witling tongue 
Thy praises shall prolong ; 

For oh ! thy bounty fires my breast. 
And rapture swells my song. 



PSjiLM XLIL 



Wn-H fierce desire the bunted hart 
Explores the cooling stream ; 

Mine is a passion stronger fiir. 
And mine a nobler theme* 

Yes, with sup^or fervours. Lord, 

I thirst to see thy fisu^ ; 
My languid soul would fiiin approach. 

The fountains of thy grace. 
Oh ! the great plenty of thy house. 

The rich refreshments there ! 
To live an exil^ from thy courts 

O'erw helms me with despair. 
In worship when ? joined thy saints. 

How sweetly pass'd my da]rs ! 
Prayer my divroe emplojrment then. 

And all my pleasure praise. 
But now 1 ^m lost to every joy. 

Because detained finom thee ; • 
'Qmsc ct>lden periods ne'er return. 

Or ne'er return to me^ 
Yet, O my soul, why thns deprest. 

And whence this anxious fbar? 
Let foi mer fovours fix thy trust. 

And check the rising tear. 
When darkness and when sorrows rose. 

And press'd on every side. 
Did not the Lord sustain thy steps. 

And was not God thy guide } 
Affliction is a stormy deep. 

Where wave resounds to wave ; 
Tho' o'er my head the billows roll, 

I know the Lord can save. 
Perhaps, before the morning dawns^ 

He'll reinstate my peace ; 
For he, who bede the tempest roar. 

Can bid the tempest cease. 
In the dailt watches of the night 

I '11 count bis mercies o'er ; 
I '11 praise him for ten thousand past. 

And hnmbly sue for more. 
Then, O my soul, why thus deprest. 

And whence this anxious lear> 
Let former favonrs fix thy trust. 

And check the risuig tear. 

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NIGHT PIECE. 



rr 



Btfc «31 1 ml, and build my hopes, 

Kor Bonnur at hit rod ; 
Be^ more than all the world to me. 

My hcakh, my life, my God ! 



THE SIGHT PIECE. 

Haik ! the prophetic raven brings 

My luainiocu on hi« boding winan ; 

Tt^ birds of night my fate foretel, 

TVe pc eft jeot death-watch sounds my knell. 

A Mlemo daifaiets spreads the tomb, 

BiA temmia haunt the midnight gluom ; 

M^hiiik« a browner horraor fiills, 

Abd siieot spectres sweep the walls. 

T^ me, my soul, (»h tell me why 

Tke fimlterh^ tDogue» the broken sigh ? 

Tby manly cheeks bedew'd with t«»ars, 

Tea aie, my soul, from whence these fears ? 

Vben oonscioos guilt arrests the miud, 

Ivvaghig faries Malk behind, 

A«d skkly £incy intenrenes. 

To drev the visioaary scenes. 

Jesa^ to thee Til fly for aid, 

PrapicioQs Sun, dispel the shade ; 

All the pale fiunily of fear 

Wovld Taatsb were my Saviour here. 

No more imagined spectres walk. 

No more the doubtful echoes Ulk ; 

Sgft aepfayrs fen the neighbouring trees, 

Aad meditation mounts the breeze. 

How sweet these sacred hours of rest, 

Ftir portraits of the virtuoas breast, 

Wbere lawless lost, and passions rude, 

Aad folly never flare intrude ! 

Be other's choice the sparklmg bowl. 

And aurth, the poison of the soul ; 

Or fludnight dance, and public shows, 

Psents of sickness, pams, and woes. 

A nobler joy my thoughts design ? 

katrnctive solitude, be mine ; 

Be Btae tbat silent calm repast, 

A dbearfel conscience to the lasL 

TW tree wfaidi bears immortal fruit, 

Vkkoot a canker at the root ; 

That friend wbicb never feils the just, 

^^en other friends desert their tmst. 

Cbeiethen, my soul, be this tby guest, 

Aad leave to knaves and feols the rest. 

Viii tais thou ever sbalt be gay, 

Aad 0^ shall bnghten into day. 

With this companion in the shade, 

Sinly thon couhlst not be dismay'd ; 

fiat if thy Saviour here were found, 

Al FsndiBe would bloom around. 



« Bad I a Arm and lasting feith,** 
T» endit what the Almigl^ saitb, 
Icanld defy the midnight gloom, 
Aad the pale monarch of the torn 



l^oagh tempests drive me from the shoreL 
Aa4ioods descend, and billows roar; 
Though death appears in every form, 
Ify fittla bufk ahoold bravt the flofm. 



Then if my God requir'd the life 
Of brother, parent, child, or wife. 
Lord, I should bless the stem decree. 
And give my dearest friend to thee. 
Amidst the various scenes of ills, 
Each stroke some kind design fulfils; 
And shall I murmur at my God, 
When sovereign love directs the rod t 
Peace, rebel-thoughts— I'll not complain. 
My Father's smiles suspend my pain ; 
Smiles — ^that a thousand joys impart. 
And pour the balm that heals the smart 
Though Heaven afflicts, I'll not repine. 
Bach heart-felt comfort still is mine ; 
Comforts tbat shall o*er death prevail. 
And journey with me though the vale. 
Dear Jesus, smooth that rugged way. 
And lead me to the realms of day, 
To milder skies, and brighter plains. 
Where everlasting sunshine reigns. 



REV. JAMES HERVEY^ 

ON HIS MBOrTATIOHS. 

By a Pkyndofu 

To form the taste, and raise the nobler part. 
To mend the morals, and to warm the heart; 
To trace the genial source we Nature call, 
And prove the God of Nature friend of all; 
Hervey for this his mental landscape drew. 
And sketchM the whole creation out to view. 

Th' enamelPd bloom, and variegated flowV, 
Whoae crimson changes with the changing hour ; 
The humble shrub, whose fragrance scents the mom. 
With buds disclosing to the early dawn ; 
The oaks that grace Britannia's mountains' side. 
And spicy Lebanon's superior pride ^ ? 
All loudly sovereign excellence proclaim, 
And animated worlds confess the same. 

The azure fields that form th' extended sky. 
The planetary globes that roll on high, 
And solar orbs, of proudest blaze, eombioe 
To act subservient to the great design. 
Men, angels, seraphs, join the gen'rel voice. 
And in the Lord of Nature all rejoice. 

His the grey winter's venerable guise, 
Its shrouded glories, and instructive skies t ; 
His the snow's plumes, that brood the sick*ninc 

blade; 
His the bright petodant that impearls the glade; 
The waving forest, or the whispering brake ; 
The surging bilbw, or the sleeping lake. 
The same who pours the beauties of the spring. 
Or mounts the whirlwind's desolating wing. 
The same who smiles in Nature's peacefiil form. 
Frowns in the tempest, and direcU the storm. 

n^s thine, bright teacher, to improve the age; 
'TIS thine, whose life's a comment on thy page. 
Thy happy page ! whoae periods sweetly flow. 
Whose figures charm us, and whoae colours giow : . 
Where artless piety pervades the whole, 
Refines the genius, and exalts the aoul. 

1 The cedar. * Referring to the Wmter-PiQci^ 



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COTTOirS K>ElfB. 



For let tbe witling argue all he eaa, 

It if religioii itill that makes tte awn. 

*Ti8 thii» my friend, tiMt ttreaktoar aMrmig bright ; 

nil this that gilds the lionpoars of the night 

When wealth fbrMkes us, and wheo friends are tern ; 

When friends are fiuthleia, or when foes pumie; 

Tb this that wards the blow, or stills the smart. 

Disarms affliction, or repels its daft; 

Within the breast bids purest raptnre rise ; 

Bids smiling conscience spread her cloudlen skies. 

When the storm thickens, and the thunder rolls, 
When the Earth trembles to th* affrighted poles» 
The Tirtuoift mind nor doubts nor fiean ass^ } 
For itorms are eephyrs, or a gentler gale. 

And when disease obstmcts the laboring braath ; 
When the heart sickens, and each pulse is death ; 
E'en then religion shall sustahi the jnst, 
Grace their last momeatSyner deseitiheir dint 

August 5, 1748. 



LINES UH3BR A SUN-DIAL 

nr THE CHUaCB-TAlD AT 

THORNBV. 

Mask well my shade, and serioNsly attend 
The silent lesson of a common friend — 
Since time and life speed hastily away. 
And neither con reoal the fonuer day. 
Improve each 6eetuig hoor before *tis past. 
And know, each Oeetiiv hour may be thy last 



TO THE MBMOtY OF 

Tfm RBV. MR. SAMUEL CLARK, 

WHO niBD OCOUIBEl TM 26tH, 1769, AGED 43. 

(Dmemmg Minkttt otBirmmglmm.) 

IN all the intercourses of humanity 

He was upright, prudent, and courteous. 

Compassionate, kind, and benefiaent 

In opinion 

Candid, diffident, and judicious. 

In argument 
Calm, strong, and persuasive. 
Under difficulties and sorrows 
Collected, finn,and resignU 
In friendship 
Mthftil, entertaining, and instiuctiveu 
In his ministerial capacity 
He p os Bes sed «very Taluable and happy talent 
To rectify the judgment, and improve the lieart 
He was learned without pride. 
And pious without oste n tat i on; 
Zealous and inde&tigable to advance the interest 
OftruereUgioo, 
And the everlasting welfiure of thoae who m^xt 



To Ikis pastoral care. 

What! tbo^ such various worth is seldom kaosm, 

^ adnktion rears this sacred stone, 

Ne partial k»ve this •genuine pklnre drams. 

No venal peaeil y n0 jk%k%m applanse: 

Justice and truth in artless colours paint 

file nan, the friend, Ibe pieacher, and the tanit 



riSiONB 

tw 

VERSE, 

roa 

THE ENTERTAINMENT AND INSTRUCTION 

or 

YOUNGER MINDS. 

Vllginibus puerisque canta voa. 



CONTAINING, 

BPISTLB TO TRB KBADBE. YistOn T. VArrtHCeS. 

Vision I. sLAtcoea. vi. FRicnoaaip. 

II. PLBASUtX. ni. MAHRIAOC^ 

III. HBALTH. VIII. Lira. 

tv. coirravT. the last, miats. 



EPISTLE TO SWe READER. 

AuTROit, you know, of greatest fiMne, 

Thro* modesty suppress their name; 

And would you wish me to reveal 

What these superior wits conceal ? 

Forego the search, my curious friend. 

And husband time to better end. 

Ail my ambition is, I own, 

To profit and to please unknown ; 

Like streams supply*d from springs bekm, 

^liich scatter blessings as they flow. 

Were you dissai^ or pressed with pain. 
Straight you*d apply to Warwick<Lane > ; 
Tlie thoughtful dodtor feels your pulse, 
(No matter whether Mead or Hulse) 
Writes — Arabic to you and me,— 
Then signs his hand, and takes his fee. 
Now, should the sage omit his name, 
Wou*d not the cure remain the same ? 
Not but plijrsicians aig^ their bill. 
Or when they cure, or when they klU. 

Tis often known the mental race 
Their fond ambitious sires disgrace. 
Dar'd I avow a parent's claim. 
Critics might sneer, and friends might blane. 
This dang'rous secret let me hide 
I'll tell you every thing beside. 
Not that it bqato 4he workl a tittle. 
Whether the author's big or little ; 
Or whether feir, or black, or brown ^ 
No writer's hue concerns the town. 

I pass tha silent rural hour. 
No slave to wealth, no tool to pow*r. 
My mansion's warm, and very neat | 
You'd say, a pretty snog retreat 
My rooms no costly paiiitings graee. 
The humbler print 'sappKes th^ plaee* 
Behind the house my garden lies. 
And opens to the souttwra skies : 
The distant MHs gay .prospects yieM, 
And plenty smiles so <evVy iehL 

> OoNegeof PhysisiMis 



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TISIONS IN VERSE. 



9 



1W icBtber'd tribes adera Ay yard ; 
itine Bqr joy, ny tre«l wfaeo dead. 
Aid their aalt i^MCt ii | i i we ray bed. 

My caw revaida aa all Ae e«D, 
fSralef leawe ingratHode to mairs) 
Sbe,dttly timkfial to her lord, 
CnomWith afciiancHW ivaets ray board. 
AiB 1 (iaraa'd ? — cbc cure is kocnro, 
Her ffveeter jaiora flKod oiy u«rii. ' 

I love my hoose, and seldoai roam, 
Fea nwt* pieaae me laore tbao huMnr, 
I pity that oahappy etf 
Wbo bvet all eompany bat 8ei^ 
By idle piawum borne away 
Ta op^ra, maaqoerade, or play ; 
Kiad of tboaa hives wbeie IbUy ttftgtm. 
Ami Britaip's ^esfs receire her chains ; 
Wbae the pert xirpn slights a name, 
iad soocna ta redden iato iharae. 
Bol know, my frir, (to whom belong 
The poet and his arUasi song) 
When female cheAs reftise to glow, 
nicwell to Tntoe here heluv. 
Oar sex is lost to every mtey 
Oar sole distmctioo, kuare or iboL 
Ta to year ionooeace we nm ; 
Sare as, ye fiur, or we're nndooe ; 
Maintain foar uiudesty and statioa; 
S» women shall picaei f c the natioo. 

Motheis, 'tis said, in days of old 
fiaeem'd their girls ttore choice than goU : 
Too well a d aughte f ^s worth they knew. 
To make her cheap hy paUic riew : 
(Few, who their diamonds' valve weigh, 
Expose thoae diamonds av*ry day) 
Tbea, if sir Piome drew ixmr, and sniiPd, 
The parent trembled for her child : 
Tbe ftfst advance alarm*d her breast; 
Aod &ncy pictnrM all the rert. 
Bat DOW oo mother fears a foe, 
Mo daagfater shudders at a bean. 

Pleasure is all the retgnmjr theme, 
Or aoon^lay tfaooghl, oor mklnigbt dreadL 
la 1%^ chace our youths engage, 
Aad tameless crowA of toCfnng age. 
The die, the dance, th' intemperate bowl 
W'A variooa charms engross the soal. 
Are goki, fuDC, health, the terras of vice ? 
Tlie frantic tribes shall pay the price* 
kt tho> to rain post they run, 
TV; 11 think it hanl to be nndooe. 

bo not arraign my want of taste. 
Or 1^ to ken where joys are p1ac*d. 
They widely err, whothink me blind, 
And I drrlaim a stoic's miDd. 
like yonrs are my se n satio n s quite ; 
I ooly strive to foel aright. 
Ky jofi, like streams, glide gvmtly by, 
TW sbhII their cbnnnef , never dry ; 
Ketp a still, even, Iruitfhl wave, 
Aad Mess the aei^b^Hng meads they hive. 

My fill— (far ini mention all, 
Aad iBore than ywn darte tell) is small ; 
Yet ev'ry frieod p a rta k e s my store, 
Aad vaat goes smiliog'from my door. 
^Jl bttf sWHiif s aarm the hraast 
0( worth or iodraftfT dirtrem'd ? 



This sum I cbeerfiatly impait : 
Tis foorseore pleasures to my heat. 
And you may make, by means like 1 
Five talents ten, whenever you please. 
Tis true, my little parse grasrs light; 
But then i sleep so sweet at night ! 
This grand speci6c will prevail. 
When all the doctor's opiates ihil. 

Yon ask, whai party i pursue ? 
Perhaps you mean, *' Whose fool art yon }^ 
The names of party I detest. 
Badges of slavery at best? 
I've too much grace to play the kuKfe, 
And too much pride to tarn a slave. 

I love my country from my son). 
And grieve idien kraves or foob oootroL 
Pm pleas'd, when vkse and folly smart. 
Or at the gibbet or the cart : 
Yet always pity, where I can. 
Abhor the guilt, but mourn the man. 

Now the religion of your poet- 
Does not thu little prefoce show it } 
My Visions If you scan with care, 
Tis ten to one you'll find it there. 
And if my actions suit my song. 
You can't in conscience thhik ma wrong. 



SLAm)ElL 
VISION I. 

INSCIIBID TO MIU ***#. 

My lovely giri, I write for you ; 
And pray believe my visions true ; 
They'll form your mind to every graea ; 
They'll add new beauties to 3rour face : 
And when old dge impairs your prime. 
You'll triumph o'er the spoils of time. 

Childhood and youth engage my pen, 
Tis labour lost to talk to men. 
Youth may, perhaps, reform, when witaig. 
Age will not listen to my song. • 

He who at fifty is a fool, 
b far too stubborn grown for scliool. 

What is tiiat vice which still prevails, 
When almost every passion fails; 
Which with our very dawn begun. 
Nor ends, but with our setting sun ; 
Which, like a noxious weed, can spoil 
ITie fairest flow'rs, and choke the soil ? 
Tis Slander, — and, with shame 1 own, 
llie vice of human kind alone. 

Be Slander then my lesding dream, 
Tho' you 're a stranger to the thetoe j 
Thy softer breast, and honest heart, 
Scorn the defamatory art ; 
Thy soul asserts her native skien. 
Nor asks detraction's wings to rise ; 
In foreign spoils <et others shine. 
Intrinsic excellence is thhie. 
The bird, m peacock's plumes who shone. 
Could plead no merit of her own : 
Tbe silly theft betrsyM her pride. 
And spoke her poverty beside. 

Th' insidions stand'ring thief is worse 
Than (he poor njgue -who steals your pane. 



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30 



COTTON'S POEMS. 



Say, he purioins your gltUMng store ; 

"WIm takvs ymir goM^ takes '* trash*' — no more ; 

Perhaps be pilfers — to be fed — 

Ah ) guiltless wretch, who steals for broad ! 

But the dark villain, who shall aim 

To blast, my fair, thy spotless name, 

He*d steal a precious gem away, 

Steal what both Indies canH repay 1 

Here the strong pleas of want are vain, 

Or the more impious pleas of gain. 

No sinkiug ihmily to rave ! 

No gold to glut th' insatiate knave ! 

Improve the hint of Shakespeare's tongue, 
Twas thus immortal Shakes-peare > sung. 
And trust the bard's unerring rule, 
For nature was that poet's school. 

As 1 was nodding in my chair, 
I saw a rueful wild appear : 
No verdure met my aching sight. 
But hemloc, aud cold aconite ; 
Two very pois'nous plants, *tis true. 
But not so bad as vice to you. 

The dreary prospect spread around ! 
Beep snow had wbiten'd all the ground ! 
A black and barren mountain nigh. 
Exposed to «v'ry friendless sky I 
Here ibuUmouth'd Slander lay reclio'd. 
Her snaky tresses hiss'd behind : 
" A bloated toad- stool rais'd hcfr head. 
The plumes of ravens were her bed ^ ;** 
She fed upon the viper's brood, 
And slak'd tier impious thirst with bk>od. 

The rising Sun and western ray 
Were witness to her distant sway. 
The tyrant claim'd a mightier host 
Than the proud Persian e'er could boMt. 
No conquest grac'd Darius' son ^ ; 
By his own numbers half undone ! 
Success attended Slander's pow'r. 
She reap'd fresh laurels ev'ry hour. 
Her troops a deeper scarlet wore 
Than ever armies knew before. 

No plea diverts the fury's rage. 
The fury spares nor sex nor age. 
Ev'n merit, with destructive charms, 
Provokes the vengeance of her arms. 

Whene'er the tyrant sounds to war. 
Her canker'd trump is beard afar. 
Pride, with a heart unknown to yield. 
Commands in chief, and guides the fiekL 
He stalks with vast gigantic stride. 
And scatters fear and ruin wide. 
So th' impetuous torrents sweep 
At once whole nations to the deep. 

Revenge, that base Hesperian <, known 
A chief support of Slander's throne. 
Amidst the bloody crowd is seen. 
And treach'ry brooding in bis mien ; 

1 Othello. 3 Garth's Dispensary. 

s Xerxes, king of Persia, and son of Darius. He 
invaded Greece with an army consisting of more 
than a millioil of men (some say more than two 
millions) who, together with their cattle, perished in 
great measure through the inability of the countries 
to aapply such a vast host with provision. 

4 Hesperia includes Italy as well as Spain, and 
the inhibitanta of both are remarkable for their 
reveiig^ dispptition^ 



The monster often cbang'd his gait. 
But nuirch'd resolv'd and fix'd as fate. 
Thus the fell kite, whom hunger stiugs. 
Now slowly moves his outstretch'd wingt; 
Now swift as lightning bears ^way. 
And darts npOn his trembling prey. 

Envy commands a secret baJid, 
With nword and poison m her hand. 
Around her hagc^ard eye-balls roll i 
A thousand fiends possess her soul. 
The artful, unsuspected sprite 
With fatal aim attacks by night 
Her troops advance with silent treat!. 
And stab the hero in his bed ; 
Or shoot the widg'd malignaut lie. 
And female honours pine and die. 
So prowling wolves, when darkness reigna. 
Intent on murder scour the plains ; 
Approach the folds, where lambs repaae. 
Whose guileless breasts suspect no fbes ; 
The savage gluts his fierce desires. 
And bleating innocence expires. 

Slander smii'd horribly, to view 
How wi<le her daily conquests grew i 
Around the crowded levees wait. 
Like oriental slaves of state : 
Of either sex whole armies press'd* 
But chiefly of the fair and best 

Is it a breach of friendship's law 
To say what female friends I saw } 
Slander assumes the idol's part. 
And claims the tribute of the*beart 
The best, in some unguarded hour. 
Have bowM the knee, and own'd her pow*r. 
Then let the poet not revaal 
What candour wishes to conceal. 

If I beheld some faulty fhir^ 
Much worse delinquents crowded there : 
Pre'ates in sacred lawn I saw. 
Grave physic, and loquacious law ; 
Onirtiers, liko summer flies, abound ; 
And hungry poets swarm arooud. 
But now my partial story ends. 
And makes my females full amends. 
If Albion's isle such dreams fulfils, 
Tis Albion's isle which cures these ills; 
Fertile of every worth and grace. 
Which warm the heart, and flush the &ce. 

Fancy disclos'd a smiling train 
Of British nymphs, that tripp'd the plain : * 
Good-nature first, a sylvan queen, 
Attir'd in robes of cheerful green : ' 
A fair and smiling virgin she I 
Witli ev'ry charm that shines in thee. 
Prudence assum'd the chief command. 
And bore a mirror in her hand ; 
Grey was the matron's head by age. 
Her mind by long experience sage ; 
Of every distant ill afraid. 
And anxious for the simp'ring maid. 
The Graces danc'd before the fair ; 
And white-rob'd Innocence was there. 
The trees with golden fruits were crown*^ 
And rising ^ow'rs adorn'd the ground : 
The Sun display'd each brighter ray. 
And shone in aU the pride oiF day. 

When Slander sicken'd at the sigh^ 
And tkulk'd away to khuo the li|^ 



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St 



PLBASVRE. 

VISION 11. 

HtJit, ye lair molbers of uur ble, 
Xor mxjrn ymiT poet's homely style. 
Wkat tho* my thoughts be quaint or new, 
rO vsiTBBt that my doctrine's true : 
Or a my «entiment8 be okJ, 
Remember, truth h sterKng goltf . 

Too jmlgt- it of important we ght. 
To keep your rti»naff ofispriag straight : 
For th« smcb anxious momt- ots feel, 
Ind ask the IrieBdly aids of st^el ; 
For this import the distant cane, 
Or slay the nxMiareb of the main. 
iad sball the sool be varpM asida 
fif panioB, pr^udice, and pride ^ 
Mmnity of heart J call 
The worst deformity of all. 
Year cares to body are confin'd, 
Fea fear oUiqaity of mind. 
Why Bot adorn the better part? 
TVs ia a nobler theme for art 
For vhat is form, or what is face, 
Bat tbe aoal's index,, or its case ? 

Xov take a simile at hand, 
Compare tbe mental soil to land. 
Shall 6ekk be t'dld with annual cart, 
iod minds lie fellow ev'ry year ? 
O aaee the crop depends on yon, 
Gnt them the coiture which is due : 
Hoe every weed, and dress the soil, 
S» harvest shall repay your toil. 

If homan minds resemble trees, 
(is every moralist agrees) 
Praae all the straggl«^ of yonr vine, 
Tbea shall the pnrple clusters shine. 
The ganPner knows, that fruitful life 
U iBiuiIi his salutary knife : 
Fv ev'ry wild luxuriant shoot, 
Or robs the bloom, or sUrves the fruit 

A aatiTW 1 in Koman times, 
When Rome, like Britaio, groaned with crimes, 
Asnts icfbr a fcaei^ troth, 
Tbat plea^res are tbe bane of ironth : 
Tte sorrows such pursuits attend. 
Or such pursuits in sorrows end : 
That an tbe wild ad venturer gains 
Are prrils, penitence, and pains. 

ippim«, ye fair, the Roman page, 
Aad bid yoor sons revere the sa^ ; 
hi ««ndy ipend their midnight oil, 
Aad sbiag tlieir oerres by manly toil. 
Thai shall they grow like Temple w\^, 
Tbas fetsre lockes and Newtons rise; 
O haidy chiefe to wield the lance, 
Ab4 flme OS from the chains of France. 
To, bid yoor sons betimes fbrego 
Tbise ticMli'roos paths where pleamret grow } 
TS^hiie the young mind is folly's »Uve, 
Wkere etery virtue finds a grave. 

let each brigtit character be nam'd, 
fo aiadom or fur valour fam'd : 
Are the dear youths to scicivce prone ? 
Tell, how th* immortal Bacon shone ! 
Wha, leariog meaner joys to kings, 
AM'd high op coq^eoplation's wings ; 

1 ParuQi. 



Ranged the feir fields of Nature o*er, 
Where ntver mortal trod before : 
Bacon ! whose vast capacious plan 
Bespoke him angel more than man ! 
Does love of martial fame inspire i 
Cherish, ye feir, the gen*rous fire ; 
Teach them to spurn inglorious rest. 
And rouse the hero m their breast ; 
Paint Cressy's vanquished field antw. 
Their souls shall kindle at the view j 
Resolv'd to conquer or to fall. 
When Liberty and Britain call. 
Thus shall they rule the crimson plain. 
Or hurl thttir thunders thro' the main ; 
Gain with their blood, nor grudge the cost^ 
What their degenerate sires have lost : 
The laurel thus shall grace their brow, ' 
As ChurcbilPs once, or Warren's now. 

One summer's evening as I stray'd 
Along the silent moon-light glade. 
With these reflections in my breasti^ 
Beneath an oak I sunk to rest ; 
A gentle slumber intervenes. 
And fency dress'd instructive scenes. 

Methought a spacirms road 1 spy'd^ 
And stately trees adom'd its side ; 
Frequented by a gi<!dy crowd 
Of thoughtless mortals, vain and loud ; 
Who tripp'd with jocund heel along. 
And bade me join their smiling throng* 
I straight obey'd — Persuasion hung 
Like honey on the speaker's tongue. 
A cloudless sun improv'd the day, 
And pinks and roses strew'd our way« 

Now as our journey we pursue, 
A beauteous fabrc rose to view, 
A stately dome, and sweetly grac'd 
With every ornament nf taste. 
This structure was a female's claim, 
And Pleasure wan the monarch's name. 

The bail we enter'd nncontrol'd. 
And saw the queen enthron'd on gold ; 
Arabian sweets pcrfum'd the ground. 
And laughing Cupids fluttered round ; 
A flowing vest adoru'd the fair, 
And flow^'ry chaplets wreath'd her hair t 
F^nd taught tbe queen a thousand wile% 
A thousand soft insidious smiles ; 
Love taught her lisping tonjjue to speak. 
And form'd the dimple in her cheek; 
The lily and the damask rose. 
The tincture of her fece compose ; 
Nor did the god of wit disdain 
To mingle with the shining train. 

Her vot'ries flock from various parts, " 
And chiefly youth resign'd their hearts j 
The old in sparing numbers press'd. 
But awkward devotees at best. 

" Now let us range at Urge," we cry*d, 
*' Through all the garden's boasted pride.** 
Here jasmines spread the silver flow'r. 
To deck the wall, or weave the bow'r; 
The woodbines mix In am'rous play. 
And breath their fragrant lives away. 
Here rishng myrtles form a shade, 
Thare roses blush, and scent the glade. 
The orange, with a vernal fisce, 
Weaiv «Y'ry rich autumnal grace j 



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COTTON'S POEM& 



While the yooof blonomrherB uafeld. 
There shines the fruit like pendant gold. 
Citrons their balmy sweets exhale. 
And triumph in the distant gale. 
Now fountains, monn'ring to the song. 
Roll their translucent streams along. 
Thro* all the aromatic groves. 
The foithful turtles coo their loves. 
The lark ascending poors his notes, 
And linneto swell their rant'roos'throsls; 

Pleasure, imperial fiur ! bow gay 
Thy empire, and how wide thy sway ! 
Enchanting queen ! how soft tby rcijro I 
How man, food man I implores thy chain I 
Yet thine each meretricious art. 
That weakens, and corrupts the heart. 
The childish toys and wanton page 
Which sink and prostitute the sUge ! 
The masquerade, that just ofience 
To virtue, and leproach to sense I 
The midnight dance, the ma n tl i ng bowl^ 
And all that dissipate the soul ; 
All that to ruin man combine. 
Yes, spacions hariot, all are thine ! 

Whence sprang th* accursed lust of pUy» 
Which beggars thousands in a day ? 
Speak, sorc>ress, speak (for thou canst tell) 
Who call'd the treacherous card from Hell ? 
Now man profones his reasoning pow*rs, 
Profones sweet friendship's sacred hours ; 
AbandonM to inglorioos ends, 
And fhithless to himself and fneods; 
A dupe to evhry artful knave. 
To ev^ abject wish a slave; 
But who against himself combines. 
Abets his enemy*s designs. 
When rapine nieditates a blow. 
He shares the guilt who aids the foe. 
Is mm a thief who steals my pelf ? 
How great his theft, who robs himself 1 
Is man, who gulls his friend, a cheat ? 
How heinous then b self-deceit ! 
Is murder justly deem*d a crime ? 
How black his guilt, who murders time ! 
SbouM custom plead, as custom will. 
Grand precedents to palliate ill, 
j^ball modes and forms avail with we, . 
When reason disavows the plea ? 
Who games, is felon of his wealtli. 
His time, his liberty, his heahh. 
Viitue forsakes his sordid mind. 
And Honour scorns to stay behind. 
From man when these bright chenibs part. 
Ah ! what's the poor deserted beart ; 
A savage wild that shocks the sight. 
Or chaos, and impervious night ! 
Vach gen'rous principle destroyed. 
And demons crowd the frightful void ! 

Shall Siam's elephant supply 
The baneful desolating die ? 
Against the honest sy Ivan's will. 
You taught his iv'ry tusk to kill. 
HeaT*n , fond its fisvouis to dispense. 
Gave htm that weapon for defence. 
That weapon, for bis guard designed. 
You renderMiatal to mankind. 
He plann'd no death for thoughtless youlh» 
Yon gave the Ttoopi to his touth. 



Blush, tyrant, blosb, fvr oh ! >tis tfoe 
Tbat no foil serpent bites like you. 

The guests were ordered to depait. 
Reluctance sat on ev^ry heart : 
A porter showM a difieirent door, 
Not the foir portal known before? 
The gates, methooght were open'd wide, 
Tbe crowds descended in a tide. 
But oh ! ye Heav>ns, what vast surprise 
Struck the adventurers* frighted eyes I 
A barren heath before us lay, 
And gathVing clouds obscured the day ; 
The diarkness rose in smoky spires ; 
The lightuinp flashed their livid fires : 
Loud peals of thunder rent tbe air. 
While vengeance chill'd our hearts with f^r. 

Five ruthless tyrants swayM tbe plain. 
And triumphed o'er the mangled slain. 
Here sat Distaste, with sickly mien. 
And more than half devour'd with spleen : 
There stood Remorse, with thought opprest| 
And Tipers feeding on bis breast : 
Then Want, dejected, pale, and thin. 
With bones just starting thro' hb skin ; 
A ghastly fiend ;— and close behind 
Disease, his aching head reclin'd 1 
His everkstii^ thirst oonfois'd 
Ihe fires, which lag'd within bis breast : 
Death clos*d the train ! the hideous fixm 
Smil'd onrelentinff in the storm : 
When straight a dkileful shriek was heard ; 
I 'woke— The vision dlsappear'd. 

Let not the unexperienc'd boy 
Deny tbat pleasures will destroy ; 
Or saj that dreams are vain and wild. 
Like fairy tales, to please a child. 
Important hints the wise may reap 
From sallies of the soul in sleep. 
And since there's meaning in my dream^ 
Tbe moral merits yoor esteem. 



UEALTIL, 



VISION UL 
Attend my visions, tboogfaUess youths* 
Kre long you'll think them weighty truths | 
Prudent it were to think so now ^ 
Ere age has silver'd o'er your brwr : 
For he, who at his early years 
Has sown m vice, shall reap in tears. 
If folly has possess'd his prime. 
Disease shall gather strength in time; 
Poison shall rage in ev'ry vein, — 
Nor pen^ce dilute the stain : 
And whOT each hour shall urge bis fate. 
Thought, like the doctor, comes too late. 
The subject of my song is Health, 
A good superior far to wealth. 
Can the young mind distrust its worth } 
Consult the monarchs of the Earth : 
Imperial czars, and sultaus, own 
No gem so brjght, tbat decks their throne :. 
F-ach for this p«iri bis crown would quit, 
And turn a rustic, or a ciU 

Mark, tho» the blessing »s lost with eas^, 
'TIS nut recovcr*d when yuu please. 



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33 



Sty Ml that gniels diall stftU^ 
For alutary graels fiuL 
Sty not, info's wns tnoeeed* 
Apollo't BOQ is £g3rpt*i ^ reed. 
Hov fraitkss the pbjrncboi'i ikiU, 
Hov vam the peniteiitml pill. 
The marble moaaments proclaim. 
The humbler tmf confirms the same ! 
Prerentjon is the better core. 
So says the proverb, and *tis sure. 

Would you extend your narrow span. 
And make the moat of life you can ; 
Would you, when med'cines cannot save. 
Descend with ease iato the grave ; 
Cilmly retire, like evening light. 
And cheerful bid the world good-night ? 
IH temp'rance coostantiy preside 
Our best physician, fheiKl, and guide ( 
Would you to wisdom make pretence. 
Proud to be thought a man c^ sense ? 
Let temp*fance (always friend to fiiune) 
WKb steady hand direct yx>ur aim $ 
Or, like an archer in the dark. 
Your random shaft will miss the mark : 
For they who slight her golden rules, 
1b wisdom's volume stand for fools. 

Bot morals, unadom*d by art. 
Are seldom' known to reach the heart. 
Til therefore strive to raise my theme 
With all the scenery of dream. 

Soft were my slumbers, sweet my rest. 
Such as the infant's on the breast ; 
Vrhen Fancy, ever on the wing. 
And fruitful as the genial spring. 
Presented, in a blaze of light, 
A new creation to my sight. 

A rural landscape I desoyd, 
Drest in the robes of summer pride ; 
The beids adom'd the sloping hills. 
That glittered with their tinkling rills ; 
Bek}w the fleecy mothers stray'd. 
And round their sportive lambkins play'd. 

Nigh to a murmuring brook I saw 
An bumble cottage thatch'd with straw ; 
fiefaind, a garden that supply'd 
All things for use, and none for pride: 
Beauty prevail'd thro* ev'ry part. 
Bat more of nature than of art 

" Hail, thou sweet, calm, unenvied seat I" 
I did, and bless'd the fair retreat; 
" Here would I pass my remnant days, 
Uoknowa to censure, or to praise; 
Forget the world, and be forgot, 
As Pope describes his vestal's lot." 

While thus I mus'd, a beauteous maid 
Slept fropi a thicket's neighb'ring shade ; 
Not Hanipton^s gallery can boast. 
Nor Hudson paint so fair a toast : 
She daim'd the cottage for her own. 
To Health a cottage is a throne. 

The annals say (to prove her worth) 
The Graces solemniz'd her birth. 
Garlands of various flow'rs they wrought, 
Tbe orchard's blushing pride they brought : 
Hence in her fMce the lily speaks, 
And bence the rose which paints her cheeks; 

» lo atlottOQ to 2 Kings zriij^ 31. 

Vol. X^}ll 



The cherry gave her lips to glow, 
Her eyes were debtors to the sloe ; 
And, to compleat the lovely fair, 
Tis said, the cbcsnul staio'd her liair. 

The virgin was averse to courts 
But often seen in rural sports : 
When in her rosy vest the mom 
Walks o'erlhe dew-bespangled lawn, 
Tbe nymph is first to form the rase. 
Or wind the horn, and lead the chace. 

Sudden I heard a shouting train. 
Glad acclamations fiU'd the plain : 
Unbounded joy improv'd the scene. 
For Health was loud proclaim'd a queen. 

Two smiling'cherdb.s grac'd her throne, 
(To modem courts, I fear, unknowD ;) 
One was the nymph, that loves the light, 
Fair Innocence, array'd in white ; 
With sister Peace in close embrace. 
And heav'n all opening in her face. 

The reign was long, the empire great. 
And Virtue, minister of state. 
In other kingdoms, ev'ry hour, 
You hear of Vice preferr'd to powV : 
Vice was a perfect stranger here : 
No knaves engross d the royal ear : 
No fools obtaiu'd this monarcirs grace; 
Virtue dispos'd of ev'ry place. 

What sickly appetites arc ours, 
Still varying with the varying boui"s ! 
And tho' from good to bad we range, 
" No matter," says Uie fool, ** 'tis change." 

Her subjects now expr«»'d apaee ^ 
Dissatisfaction in their face : 
Some view the state with envy's eye, . 
Some were displeas'd, they knew not why- ; 
When Faction, ever bold and vain, 
With rigour tax'd their monarch's reign. 
Thus, should an angel from above. 
Fraught with benevolence and love. 
Descend to Earth, ^nd here impart 
Important truths to mend the heart ; 
Would not th' instmctive guest dispense 
With passion, appetite, and sense, 
We should his heav'niy lore despise. 
And send him to his former skies. 

A dang'rous hostile power arose 
To Health, whose houshold were her. foes : 
A harlot's loose attire she wore. 
And Luxury the liame she bore. 
This princess of unbounded sway, 
Whom Asia's sofler sons obey, 
Made war against the queen of Health, 
Assisted by tbe troops of Wealth. 

The queen was first to take the field, 
Arm'd witli her helmet and her shield ; 
Temi)er'd with such superior art. 
That both were proof to ev'ry dart. 
Two wat like chiefs approach'd the green , 
And wondrous fav'rites with the queen ; 
Both were of Amazonian race, 
Both high in merit, and in place. 
Hero, Resolution marcb'd, whose soul 
No fear could shake, no pow'r control; 
The heroine wore a Roman Vest, 
A lion's heart inform'd her breast. 
Thci-e Prudence shone, whose bosom wrought 
With all the varioui pi ms of thought; 



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54 



COTTOKS POEMS. 



Twas her's to bid thelroopt eAgage, 

Awl teach the battle where to rage. « 

And now the siren's armies press. 

Their van was headed by Excess : 

The mighty wings that fbrm'd the side, 

Commainded by that giant Pride : 

While Sickness, and her sisters Pain 

And Poverty, the centre gain : 

Repentance, with a brow serere, 

And Death, were station*d in the rear. 

Health rang'd her troops with raatchleii art. 

And acted the defensive part : 

Her army posted on a hill, 

Plainly bespoke superior skill : 

Hence were discovered thro* the ptain. 

The motions of the hostile train : 

Tlliile Pmdence, to prevent surprise 

Oft sally^d with her tsusty spies ; 

Explored each ambuscade below. 

And reconnoitred well the foe. 
A&r when Luxury descry*d 

Inferior force by art supply'd. 
The siren spake-^Let fraud prevail, 
i>ince all my numerous hosts must fiul; 

Hencdfbrth hostilities shall cease, 

Vl\ send to Health and offer peace. 

Straight she dispatchM, with pow'rs compleftt. 

Pleasure, her minister, to treat 

This wicked strumpet topp^ ber part. 

And sow'd sedition in the heart f 

Thro* ev'ry troop the poison ran^ 

All were infected to a man. 

The wary generals were won 

By Pleasure's wiles, and both undone. 

Jove .held the troops in high disgrace. 
And bade diseases blast their raee ; 
Lo6k*d on the queen with melting eyes, 
And snatch'd his darling to the dties : 
Who still regards those wiser few. 
That dare lier dictates to pursue. 
For where her stricter law prevails, 
Tho* passion prompts, or vice assails; 
Long shall the cloudless skies behold. 
And their cahn son-set beam with gold. 



CONTENT. 



■f VISION IV. 

Mav is deceiv*d by outward show-* 
Tis a plain homespun truth, I knotr. 
The fraud prevails at ev*ry age. 
So says the school-boy and the sage^ 
" Yet still we hug the dear deceit. 
And still exclaim against the cheat 
But whence this inconsistent part } 
Say, moralists, who know the heart: 
If you'll. this labyrinth pursue, 
Vll go before, and find the cine. 

1 dreamt ('twas on a birth-day night) 
A sumptuous palace rose to nghl; 
The bu'Uder had, thro* ev'ry part, 
Observ'd the chastest rules of ait ; 
Raphael and Titian had displayed 
AH the full force of Ught and shades 
^Around the livery'd servants wait^ 
An aged porter kept the gute. 



As I was traverring the hall. 
Where Brussels* looms adom*d the wall^ 
(Whose tap'stry shows, without my aid, 
A nun is no such useless maid) 
A graceAil person came in view 
(His form, it seems, is known to few) ; 
His dress was unadom*d with lace. 
But charms f a thousand in his face. 

" This, sir, your property ?" I cry'd-* 
" Master and mansioii coincide : 
Where all, indeed, is truly great. 
And proves, that bliss may dwell with stste. 
Pray, sir, indulge a strai^ier's claim. 
And grant the fevonr of your name." 

" Content," the lovely form reply'd; 
But think not here that I reside : 
Here lives a courtier, base and sly ; 
An open, honest rustic, I. 
Our taste and manners disagree. 
His levee boasts no charms for me : 
For titles, and the smiles of kings. 
To me are cheap unheeded things. 
(Tu virtue can alone impact 
The patent of a ducal heart : 
Unlem this herald speaks him great. 
What shall avail the glare of state ?) 
Those secret charms are my delight. 
Which shine, remote fhnn public sight : 
Passions subdu'd, desires at rest — 
And hence his chaplain shares my breast 
" There wasa time (his grace can tell) 
I knew the duke exceeding well ; 
Knew ev'ry secret of his heart; 
In truth, we never were apart : 
But when the court became his end. 
He tum'd his back upon his friend. 

** One day I calPd upon his grace. 
Just as the duke had got a place : 
I thought (but thought amiss, *tts dear) 
I shou'd be welcome to the peer. 
Yes, welcome to*a man in pow'r ; * 
And so I was fo r half an hour. 
But he grew weary of his guest. 
And soon discarded me his breast; 
Upbrakied me with want of merit. 
But most for poverty of spirit 

" You relish not the great man's lot } 
Come, hasten to my humbler cot 
Think me not partial to the great, 
i'm a sworn &« to prkie and state ; 
No monarch share my kind embrace. 
There's scarce a monarch knows my foce ; 
Content shuns courts, and oft*ner dwells 
With modest worth in rural cella; 
There's no complaint, tho* brown the bi«ad. 
Or the mde turf sustain the head ; 
Tho* hard the couch, and coarse the meat« 
Still the brown loaf and sleep are sweet 

*' Far from the city I reside. 
And a thatch'd cottage all my pride. 
True to my heart, I seldom roam. 
Because 1 find my joys at home : 
For foreign visits then begin, 
When the man feels a void within. 

** But tho* from towns and crowda I Hf, 
Ko humorist, nor qynic^ J. 
Amidst sequester'd shades I prise 
The friendsbipi of the good and y 



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VISIONS IN VERSE. 



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B«! Vhtne and ber boos attend. 

Virtue will tell tbce, I'm a fnend : 

THI tbee, Vm faithful, constant, kind. 

And metk, and lowly, and resignM ; 

Will aay, tbere^a no distinction known 

£ctvixt ber boashold and my own." 
Adtboi. If these the friendshipt yon pursue. 

Your friends, i fear, are rery few. 

So Ijttle company, you fay. 

Yet fond of home firum day to day ? 

How do you shun detraction's rod ? 

1 doubt your neighbours think you odd ! 
Comsr, I commune with myself at night, 

Aod ssk my heart if all be right : 

If, ** right,*' replies my feithfal breast, 

I smile, and doee my eyes to rest 
Ar-moa. You seem regardless of the town : 

Pny, sir, bow stand 3ron with the gown ? 
CosrajiT. The clergy say they love me well. 

Whether tbey do, they best can tell : 

They paint me ooiode^ friendly, wise. 

And slways praise me to the skies ; 

Bot if conrictiott's at the heart. 

Why not a correspondent part ? 

For shall tbe learned tongue prevail. 

If actions preach a different tale ? 

Wbo*ll seek my door or grace my walls. 

When neither dean nor prelate calls ? 
Hlth those my friendships most obtain, 

Wbo prize their duty more than gain ; 

Kjft flow the hours whene'er we meet, 

Aod conscious virtue is our treat ; 

Our harmless breasts no envy know. 

And hence we fear no secret foe ; 

Our walks ambition ne'er attends, 

Jod hence we ask no powerful friends ; 

We wish tbe best to chnnrh and state. 

But leave the steerage to tlie great ; 
Carekas, wbo rises, or who falls, 
And never dream of vacant stalls ; 
Much less, by pride or int'rcst drawn. 
Sigh for tbe mitre, and the lawn. 
Observe tbe secrets of my art, 
m fundamental truths impart : 
If you'll my kind advice pursue, 
ril quit my hut, and dwell with yon. 
Tbe passions are a numerous crowd, 
Imperiotts, poisitive, and loud : 
Curb these licentious sons of strife ; 
Hence chiefly rise the storms of life : 
If tbey grow mutinous, and rave, 
Tbey are thy masters, thou their slafV. 
R^aid tbe world with cautious eye. 
Nor raise your expectation high. 
See that the balanced scales be such. 
You neither fear nor hope too much. 
For doappotDtroent's not tha thing, 
Ts pride and passion point the sting. 
Life b a sea where storms mu»t rise, 
Ta folly talks of cloudleas skies : 
Be vfao cotitracts his swelling sail, 
Bwks tbe fury of the gale. 

Be still, nor anxious thoughts employ, ^ 
l>*tTo* embftters present joy : 
Oa God for all events depend ; 
YoQ cannot wank when God's jrour friend. 
W«th well your part, and do your bestj 
lofc to your Haker all tbe resU 



The hand which fbrm*d thee in the womb. 
Guides from the cradle to the tomb. 
Can the fond mother slight her boy ;. 
Can she forge^ her prattling joy ? 
Say then, shall Sov'reign Love desert 
The humble, and the honest heart } 
Heav'n may not grant thee all thy mind j 
Yet say not thou that Heav'n's unkind. 
God is alike, both good and wise, • 
In what he grants, and what denies : 
Perhaps, what goodness gives to day. 
To morrow goodness takes away. 

You say, that troubles intervene. 
That sorrows darken half the scene. 
True— and this consequence you see. 
The world was ne'er design'd for thee : 
You're like a passenger below, 
That stays perhaps a n'ght or so; 
Bot still his native country lies 
Beyond the bound'ries of the skies. 

Of Heav'n ask virtue, wisdom, health. 
But never let thy pray*r be wealth. 
If food be thine, (tho* little gold) 
And raiment to repel the cold ; 
Such as may nature's wauts suffice. 
Not what from pride and folly rise ; 
If soft the motions of thy soul. 
And a calm conscience crowns the whole ; 
Add but a friend to all this store. 
You can't m reason wish for more : 
And if kind Heav'n this comfort brings, 
Tis more than Heav*n bestows on kings. 

He spake — the airy sp*H-tre flies. 
And straight the sweet illusion dies. 
'\he vision, at the early dawn. 
Consigned me to the thoughtful mom ; 
To all the cares of waking day, 
And inconsistent dreams of day. 



HAPPINESS. 

VISION V. 

Yb ductile youths, whose rising sun 
Hath many circles still to run ; 
Who wisely wish the pilot's chart. 
To steer thro' life th' unsteady heart j 
And all the thoughtful voyage past. 
To gaiu a happy port at last : 
Attend a seer's instructive song, 
For moral troths to dreams belong. 

I saw this wondrous vision soon. 
Long ere uiy sun had reach'd its noon; 
Just when the rising beard b»"gan 
To grace my chin, and call mc man. 

One night, when balniy slumbers shed 
Their peacefiyj poppies o'er my head. 
My fancy led nic to explore 
A thousand scenes unknown before. 
I saw a plain exteiKlt^i wide, 
And crowils pour'd in from ev'ry side : 
All seem'd to start a dilPrent jcanfie. 
Yet all declpr'd their views the same : 
The chace was Happiness, I found. 
But all, alas ! enchanted ground. 

Indeed I judg'd it wondrous Strrnge, 
To fee the giddy uumbtrs range 



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COTTOire POEMS. 



Tbro' roads, which promisM nought, at1>e8ty 
But sorrow to the human breast. 
Methongh^, if bljss was all their view. 
Why did they difTrent paths pursue } 
The waking world has long agreed, 
That Bagshot'K not the road to Tweed : 
And he who Berwick seeks thro* Staines, 
Shall have his labour fbr his pains. 

As Pamel * says, my bosom wrought 
With travail of nncertain thought : 
And, as an ang<?l belpM the dean. 
My augel chose to intervene ; 
The dress of each was much the same, 
And Virtue was my seraph *s name. 
When thus the angel silence broke, 
(Her voice was music as she spoke.) 

" Attend, O man, nor leave my side. 
And saft-ty shall thy footsteps guide; 
Such tmths I'll teach, such secrets show. 
As none but favoured mortals know." 

She said — and straight we nwrch'd along 
To join Ambition*s activethrong : 
Crowds nrg'd on crowds with eager pace. 
And happy he who led the race. 
Axes and daggers lay unseen 
In ambuscade along the green ; 
While vapours shed dcfusive light, 
Afld bubbles mock'd the distant sight. 

We saw a shining mountain rise, 
Whoce towVing summit reached the skies : 
The slopes were steep, and fonn*d of glass. 
Painful and hazardous to pa^ : 
Courtiers and statesmen Jed the way. 
The faithless paths their steps betray : 
This moment seen aloft to soar, 
The next to fall and rise no more. 

*Twas here Ambition kept her court, 
A phantom of gigantic port ; 
The favorite that sustain^ her throne, 
Was Falsehood, by her vizard known ; 
Kcxt stood Mistrust, with frequent sigh. 
Disordered look, and squinting eye ; 
While meagre Envy claimed a place, 
And Jealousy with jaundicM face. 

*' But where is Happiness ?" I cry'd. 
My guardian turned, and thus reply'd. 

" Mortal, by folly still beguil'd. 
Thou hast not yet outstripp'd the child ; 
Thou, who hast twenty winters seen, 
(I hardly think thee past fifteen) 
To ask if Happiness can dwell 
With every dirty imp of Hell ! ' 
Go to the school-boy, he shall preach. 
What twenty winters cannot teach ; 
He'll tell thee from his weekly theme. 
That thy pursuit is all a dream : 
That Bliss ambitious views disowns, 
And self-dependent, iauglis at thrones; 
Prefers the shades and lowly seats. 
Whither fair Innocence retreats: 
So the coy lily of the valt*, 
Shuns eminence, and loves the dale.** 

I bliish'd J and now we crossM the plain. 
To find the money -getting train ; 
Those siU'ilt, snug, commenrial l^auds, 
With busy looks, and dirty bauds. 

» The Hermit 



a 



Amidst these thoughtful crowds the old 

Plac'd all their happiness in gold. 

And surely, if there's bliss below. 

These hoary heads the secret know. 
We journey *d with the plodding crew. 

When soon a temple rote to view : 

A gothic pile, with moss overgrown ; 

Strong were the walls, and built with itone. 

Without 8 thousand mastiflb wait : 

A thousand bolts secure the gate. 

We sought admission long in vain ; 

For here all favours sell for gain : ,. 

The greedy porter yields to gold. 

His fee receivM, the gates unfold. 

Assembled nations here we found. 

And view'd the cringing herds around. 

Who daily sacrificed to Wealth, 

Their honour, conscience, peace, and health. 

I saw no charms that could engage ; 

The god appeared like sordid age. 

With hooked nose, and famish'd jaws. 

But serpents' eyes and harpies' claws : 

Behind stood Fear, that restless sprigbt. 

Which haunts the watches of the night ; 

And Viper-Care, that stings so deep. 

Whose deadly v^nom murders sleep. 
We hasten now to Pleasure's bow'rs ; 

Where the gay tribes jat crown'd with flow'ri : 

Here beauty every charm display'd. 

And love infiam'd the jrielding maid : 

Delicious wine our taste employs. 
His crimson howl exalts our joys : 
1 felt ite gen'rous powV, and thought 
The pearl was found, that long I sought. 
Determined here to fix my home, 
I bless'd the change, nor wish'd to roam : 
The seraph disapproved my stay. 
Spread her fair plumes, and wing'd away. 

Alas ! whene'er we talk of bliss. 
How prone is man to judge amiss ! ' 
See, a long train of ilU conspires 
To scourge our uncontrol'd desires. 
Like summer swarms diseases crowd. 
Each bears a crutcli, or each a shroud : 
Fever ! that thirsty fiiry, came. 
With inextinguishable flame ; 
Consumption, sworn ally of Death ! 
Crept slowly on with panting breath ; 
Gout roared, and showed his throbbing feet ; 
And Dropsy took the drunkard's seat : 
Stone brought his tort'ring racks ; and i 
Sat Palsy shaking in her chair ! 

A mangled youth, beneath a shade, 
A melancholy scene disitlay'd : ^ 

His noseless face, and loathsome stains. 
Proclaimed the poison in his veins ; 
He rais'd his eyes, he smote his breast. 
He wept aloud, and thus address'd : 

** Forbear the harlotes false embrace, 
Tho' Lewdness wear an angel's face. 
Be wise, by my experience taught, 
I die, alas ! for want of thought.ee 

As he, who travels Lybiaeg pji^'ms^ 
Where the fierce lion lawless reigns. 
Is seiz'd with fear and wild dismay. 
When the grim foe obstructs his way . 
My soul was pierc'd with (^nal fright. 
My tott'hng limbs oppos'd my flight; 



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1 caDM oo Viftnf , but hi vain. 
Her abseooe qaickcii*d ercry pain : 
At length the slighted angel beard, 
The dear refolgent form appeared. 

" Presomptucms yooth !" she said, and frown'd j 
(My heart strings flutteed at the sound) 
•• Who turns to me reluctant ears, 
Shall shed repeated floods of teai^. 
These rivers shall for ever last. 
There's no retracting what is past : 
Nor think aTeoging ills to shun ; 
PUy a false ca^, and you're undone. 
" Of Pleasure's gilded baits beware, 
Nor tempt the siren's foul snare : 
Porego this curs'd, detested place, 
Abhor the strumpet, and her race : 
Had yon those softer paths pursued, 
Petditkm, stripling, had ensu'd : 
Yes, fly — you itand upon its brink ; 
To morrow is too late to think. 

** Indeed unwelcome truths I tell, 
Pat mark my sacred lesson well : 
With me whoever lives at strife, 
Loses his better friend for life ; 
With me who lives in friendship's tics. 
Finds all that's sought for by the wise. 
Folly exclaims, and well she may. 
Because I Uke her mask away ; 
If once I bring her to the Sun, 
The painted harlot is undone. 
Bat prize, my child, oh ! prize my rules, 
Aod leave deceptioo to her fools. 

*' Ambitioa deals in tinsel toys, 
Hct traffic gew-gaws, fleeting joys ! 
Ad arrant juggler in disguise. 
Who holds false optics to your eyes. 
Bat ah ! how quick the shadows pass ; 
Tho' the bright visions thro' her glass 
Charm at a distance ; yet, when near. 
The baseless fabrics disappear. 

*• Nor riches boast intrinsic worth, 
•Hicir charms at best, superior earth : 
These oft the Heav'n-bom mind enslave, 
Aod make an honest man a knave. 
* Wealth cures my wants,' the miser cries ; 
Be not deceiv'd — the miser lies : 
One want he has, with all his store. 
That wont of wants! the want of more. 

" 'Take Pleasure, Wealth, and Pomp away, 
Aod where is Happiness?' you say. 

" Tb here — uild may be yours — for, know 
I'm sU that's Happiness below. 

" To Vice I leave tumultuous joys, 
Mbje is the still and softer voice ; 
That whispers peace, when storms invade, 
Aad masic thro* the midnight shade. 

" Come then, be m'mc in ev'ry part. 
Net rive me less, than all your heart ; 
VThta troubles discompose your breast, 
I'll enter there a cheerful guest : 
My (TMiverse shall your cares beginle, 
frr little worid within shall smtle j 
\a\ then it scarce imports a jot, 
VNTwthcr the great world frowns or not. 

" And when the closing scenes prevail, 
\\Tif^ wealth, state, pleasure, all shall fail j 
AU that a foolish world admires, 
in passion craves, or pride insj^ircs ; 



I At that important hour of need, 
Virtue shall prove a friend indeed ! 

I My hands shall smooth thv dying l>ed, 
My arms sustain thy dnH»ping head : 

, And when the painful stru-slc 's o'er, 

1 And that vain thing, the world, uo more ; 

I III bear my fav'rite son away 
To rapture, and eternal day." 



FRIENDSHIP. 
VISION VI. 

Friendship ! thou soft, propitious pow'r! 
[ Sweet recent of the social hour ! 
I Sublime thy pys, nor unde^^tood 
But by the virtuous and the good ! 
Cabal and Riot Uke thy name, 
But 'tis a fale affected claim. 
In Heaven if Love and Friendship dwell. 
Can rhey a<«i0ciate e'er with Hell } 

Thou art the same thro' change of times, 
Tluo' frozen zones, and burning climes : 
From the equator to the pole. 
The sa.ne kind angel thro' the whole. 
And, since thy choice is always free, 
I bless thee for thy smiles on me. 

When sorrows swell the tempest high. 
Thou, a kind port, art always nigh ; 
For aching hearts a sov'reign cure, 
Not soft Nepenthe ^ half so sure ! 
. And when returning comforts rise. 
Thou the bright Sun that gilds our skies. 
While these ideas warm'd my breast, 
My weary e>'e-H'ls stole to rest ; 
When Fancy re-assmn'd the theme. 
And fumish'd this instructive dream. 

I sail'd ujKJn a stormy sea, 
(lliousands embark'd alike with me) 
My skiff was small, and weak beside. 
Not built, methought, to stem the tide. 
The winds along the surges sweep. 
The wrecks lie scatter'd thro' the deep ; 
Aloud the foaming billows roar, 
Unfriendly rocks forbid the shore. 

While all our various course pursue, 
A spacious i^le salutes our view. 
Two queens, with tempers ditPring wide, 
This new-discover'd world divide. 
A river parts their proper claim. 
And Truth its cclebratwl name. / 

One side a beauteous tract of ground 
I Prtscnts with living \crdure crown'd. 
Jilt- seasons tenip'rate, soft, and mild, 
I Au«l a kind Sun that always smil'd. 
I Few storms molest the natives here j 
I Coid is the only ill they fear. 
j 'I'liis liapy>y c.hmo, nml trrateful soil, 
With picuty eiuwiis the lab'rers toil. 

Here Fritiid>^^liip's happy kingdom grew, 
I Her r< iltns were small, her subject* few. 
j A thousand charms llu: palac4.' grace, 
1 A rock of atianiant its base. 

! » Nepenthe is an herb, wliich being infused 'n 
' wine, (li^peN grief. It is unknown to the nio<lerns ; 
I but some believe it a kind of opium, and others take 
it tor a 'picicsof bugloss. Plin. '21. '2 If &. 23. '2. 



! 



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COTTON'S POEMS. 



Tbo* thunders roll, and li^tnings 6y, 
This structure braves th* inclement sky. 
£T*n Time, which other piles devonrs. 
And mocks the pride of human powers. 
Partial to llriendship'ft pile alone. 
Cements the joints, and binds the stone ; 
Ripens the beauties of the place ; 
Ajod calls to life each latent grace. 

Around the throne, in order stand 
Four Amazons, a trusty band ; 
Friends ever faithful to advise. 
Or to defend when dangers rise. 
Here Fortitude ill coat of mail ! 
There Justice lifts her golden scale ! 
Two hardy ciiiefs ! who persevere. 
With form erect, and brow severe ; 
Who smile at perils, pains, and death. 
And triumph with their latest breath. 

Temperance, that comely matron's near. 
Guardian of all the virtues here ; 
AdomM with ev'ry blooming grace, 
Withofit one wrinkle in her face. 

But Prudence most attracts the sight. 
And shines pre-eminently bright. 
To view her various thoughts that rise. 
The holds a mirror to her eyes; 
The mirror, feithful to its charge. 
Reflects the vir:gin's soul in large / 

A virtue with a softer air. 
Was handmaid to the regal fSsir. 
This nymph, indulgent, constant, kind. 
Derives from Heav'n her spotless mind; 
When actions wear a dubious face. 
Puts the best meaning on the case ; 
She spreads her arms, and bares her breast. 
Takes in the naked and distressed 
Prefers the hungry orphan's cries, 
^nd from her qoeen obtains supplies. 
The maid, who acts this. lovely part, 
GraspM in her hand a bleeding heart 
Fair Charity I be thou my gnest. 
And be thy constant couch my breast 

But virtues of inferior name. 
Crowd round the throne with equal claim; 
la loyalty by none surpassed. 
They hold allegiance to the last 
Not ancient recoil e'er can show 
That one deserted to tlie foe. 

The river's other side displayed 
Alternate plots of flow'rs and shade, 
Where poppies shone with various hue, 
Where yielding willows plenteous grew; 
And humble-plants, * by travellers thought 
With slow but certain poison frvugbt 
Beyond these scenes, the eye descry^d 
A powerful realm extended wide, 
Whose boundaries from north-east begun. 
And stretch'd to meet the south-west Sun. 
Here Flatt'ry boasts despotic sway. 
And basks in all the warmth of day. 

Long practised in Deception's school. 
The tyrant knew the arts to rule ; 
Klated with th' imperial robe, 
She plans the conquest of the globe; . 

' 3 The humble-plant bends down before the touch 
(as the sensitive plant shrinks from the touch) and 
h laid by some to be tht: slow paiaon of the lodiant. 



And aided by her servile trains. 

Leads kings, and soi» of kings, in ehaim. 

Her dariing minister is Pride. 

(Who ne*er was known tb change his sid^ 

A friend to all her interests just, 

And active to discharge his trust ; 

Careas'd alike by high and low. 

The idol of the belle and beau : 

In ev'ry shape, be shoirs his skill. 

And forms her subjects to his will ; 

Enters their houses and their hearts. 

And gains his point before be parts. 

Sure never minister was known 

So zealous for his sovereign's tbrooe I 

Three sisters, similar m mien. 
Were maids of honour to the queen : 
Who farther favours shared beside. 
As daughters of her statesman Pride, 
The first, Conceit, with tow'ring crest. 
Who looked with scorn upon the rest i 
Fond of herself, nor less, I deem. 
Than dutchess in her own esteem. 

Next Afiectation, foir and young. 
With half-form'd accents on her tongue. 
Whose antic shapes, and various foce. 
Distorted every native gra^ 

Then Vanity, a wanton maid, 
Flaunting in Brussels and brocade ; 
Fantastic, fro^csome, and wild. 
With all the trinkets of a child. 

The people, loyal to the queen. 
Wore their attachment in their mien : 
With cheerful heart they homage paid. 
And happiest he, who most obey*d. 
While they, who sought their own applause. 
Promoted most their sovereign's cause. 
The minds of all were fraught with guile. 
Their manners dissolute and vile ; 
And every tribe, like Pagans, run 
To kneel before the rising Sun. 

But now some cIam*rous sounds arise. 
And all the pleasing vision flies. 

Once more I clos'd my eyes to ale^ 
And gain'd th' imaginary deep ; 
Fancy presided at the helm. 
And steered me back to Friendship's realm. 
But oh 1 with honour I relate 
The retolutions of her state. 
The Tnjan chief cou'd hardly more 
His Asiatic tow'rs deplore. 
For Flatt'ry view'd those fairer plains. 
With longing eyes, where Friendship reigns. 
With envy heard her neigbour's fame, 
And often sigb'd to gam the same. 
At length, by pride and int'rest fir*d. 
To Friendship's kingdom she aspiHd. 

And now oonunencing open foe, 
She plans in thought some mighty blcfw ; 
Draws out hfer forces on the green. 
And marches to invade the queen. 

The river Truth the hosU withstood. 
And rdl'd her formidable flood : 
Her current strong, and deep, and clear. 
No fords were found, no femes near : 
But as the troops approach'd the waves, 
Their fears suggest a thousand graves ; 
They all retir'd with haste extreme. 
And sbudder'd it the dangVous stream* 



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Vypocrisy tbe ginlpli esploffC ; 
ake ferms a bridge, and joms the sbont. 
Tbu often mrt or firaod prerails, 
Whn mifiUry pcoves £ult. 
TW troops sn easy passage find, 
Aad Vict'ry foHows dose behind 

ftieadship with aidonr chargM her foes^ 
Aad auv the fight promisciious grows^ 
Bat fhtt^ threw a poison'd dart, 
Aad plerc'd the empress to the heart 
IW Tktnci all anwoid were seen 
Ib&ll in heaps aboat the queen. 
The tyrant stiipt the mangled £ur, 
She wore her t^hj assnm'd her air ; 
Aad moonting next the snflPrer*s throne, 
Ckkn'd the queen's titles as her own. 

" Ah ! injor'd maid,'' alond 1 cry'd, 
" JUi ! injnrM maid," the rocks reply'd : 
Bat jndge my griefii, and share them too. 
For the ad tale pertsins to yon ; 
Jadge, reader, how severe the wound, 
Whea Friendship's foes were mine, I found ; 
When the sad scene of pride and guile 
Was Britain's poor degen'rate ble^ 

The AoMons, who propped the state, 
Biply surriVd the gen'ral fiite. 
jMlke to Powis-house is Bed, 
Aad Yorlce sustains her radiant head. 
The Tiitae Fortitude appears 
hi open day at Ligoiuer*s ; 
DhalnoQs heroine of the sky. 
Who leads to Tanquish or to die 1 
nVns she our Tefrans' tareasU innir'd. 
When Jk^*% fiuthless sons retired : 
fbrToomay's tieach'rous tow^ can tell 
Britannia's children greatly fell. 
Mo partial virtue of the plainl 
She nmAd the lions of the mam : 
Hcsoe Vernon's little aeet 3 sncceeds, 
Aad hence the cen'roos Cornwall < bleeds ! 
flcaee GieenTiUe ^ glorious ! — for she smil'd 
Oa ^ ynnng hero from a child. 

TW in high life such virtues dwell, 
Thejni suit plebeian breasto as welL 
Ssy, that the mighty and the great 
Bhse hke meridian suns of state ^ 
Efidgent exodlence di^ay, 
Uke HaBifiut, in floods of day ; 
Oar kaser orba may pour their light, 
Ifte the auld crescent of the night. 
TW pale our beams, and small our sphere, 
9hi «a may diine aerene and clear. 

<Sfe to the judge the scarlet gown,' 
To BMrtial souls the civic crown: 
Wkat dien ? b merit their's alone ? 
Have we no worth to call our own? 
Infl «e not vindkate our part, 
hthe finn breast, and upright hearth 
leader, these virtues may be thme, 
TW a superior light they shme. 
I caat discbarge great Hardwick's trust— 
Tiae— but my soul may still be just, 
iai tfao' I cant the state defond, 
n draw the sword to serve my friend. 



'AtPOfioBello. 

* Against the oomhined fleets of France and Spain. 

* Died in a later engagement with the French fleet 



Two golden virtties are behind. 
Of equal import to the mind; 
Prudence, to point out Wisdom's way. 
Or to reclaim us when we stray ; 
Temp'rance, to guard the youthful heart. 
When Vice and Folly throw tlie dart ; 
Pach virtue, let the world agree. 
Daily resides with you and me. 
And when our souls in friendship .join. 
We'll deem the social bond divine ; 
Thro* ev'ry scene maintain our trust. 
Nor e'er be timid or unjust 
That breast, which Virtue calls her own. 
That breast, where Honour builds his throne. 
Nor int'rest warps, nor fear appalls, 
When danger frowns, or lucre calls. 
No! the true friend collected stands. 
Fearless his heart, and pure hi« hands. 
Let int'rest plead, let storms arise. 
He dates be honest, tbough ho dice. 



MARRIAGE. 
VISION VII. 

iVSCmtBtD TO MISS *♦*♦» 

Faisist, this vision is thy due, 
I fbrm'd th' instructive plan for you. 
Slight not the rules of thoof^tful age. 
Your welfisre actuates every page ; 
But ponder well my sacred theme. 
And tremble, while you read my dream. 

Those awful words, «< Till death do pait," 
May well alarm the youthful heart : 
No after-thought when once a wife j 
The die is cast, and cast for life; 
Yet thousands venture ev'ry day. 
As some base passion leads the way. 
Pert Silvia talks of wedloek-scenes, 
Tho' hardly eater'd on her teens ; 
Smiles on her whining sparii, aud bears 
The sugar'4 speech with raptur'd ears ; 
Impatient of a parent's rule. 
She leaves her sire and weds a fool. 
Want enters at the guardless door. 
And Love is fled, to come no nuMe. 

Some few there are of sordid mould. 
Who barter youth and bloom for gold ; 
Careless with what, or whom they mate. 
Their rujing passion's all for stater 
But Hjrmen, gen'rous, just, and kind. 
Abhors, the mercenary mind : 
Such retiels groan beneath his rod. 
For Hymen's a vhidictive god ; 
" Be joyless ev'ry night," be said, 
*< And barren be their nuptial bed." 

Attend, my fair, to Wisdom's voice, 
A better hte shall crown thy choice. 
A married life, to speak the best. 
Is all a lottery conrest : 
Yet if my fSsir one will be wise, 
I will insure my girl a prizr> ; 
Tho' not a prize to match thy worth. 
Perhaps thy equal's not on Earth. 

Tis an important point to know, 
Th€^s no perfection here below. 
Man's an odd compound, after all, 
And ever has been smce the fall. 



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AO 

Say, that he loves you from his soul. 
Still man is proud, nor brooks oontrouU 
And tho* a slave in Lovers soft school, 
In wedlock claims bis right to rule. 
The best, in short, has fenlts about him. 
If tow those faults, you must not flout him. 
With some, indeed, yon can't dispense. 
As want of temper, and of sense. 
For when the Sun deserts the skies. 
And the dull winter evenings rise, 
Then fur a husband's social pow'r, 
To form the calm, conversive hf»ur; 
The treasures of thy breast explore. 
From that rich mine to draw the ore J 
Fondly each geu'rous thought refine, 
And give thy iiaiive gold to &hioe ; 
Show thee, as really thou art, 
Iho* feir, y«it fairer still at heart 

Say, when lifers purple blossoms fede, 
-As soon they must, thou charming maid j 
When iu thy cheeks the roses die. 
And sickness clouds that brilliant eye ; 
Say, ^hen or ac^e or pains hivade. 
And those dear limbs shall call for aid ; 
If thou ait fettcr'd to a fool, 
Shall not his transient passion cool ? 
And when thy health and beauty end, 
Shall thy weak mate persist a friend ? 
But to a man of sense, my dear, 
Ev*n then thou lovely shalt appear; 
He Ml share the griefs that wound thy heart, 
And weeping claim the larger part ; 
Tho' age impairs that beauteous face, 
Jle'll prize the pearl beyond its case. 

In wedlock when the sexes meet. 
Friend? hip is only then complete. 
'* lilest state ! where souls each other draw, 
Where love is liberty and law !" 
The choicest blessing found below. 
That man cau wish, or Heaven bestow I 
Trust mc, these raptures are divine. 
For lovely Chloe once was mine I 
Nor fear the varnish of my style, 
Tlio* poet, Pm estrang'd to guile. 
Ah me ! my faithful lips impart 
ITie tcrnuine lanpiage of my heart ! 

When bards extol their patrons high. 
Perhaps 'tis gold extorts the lie ; 
Perhaps the poor reward of bread — 
But who bums incense to the dead ? 
He, whom a fond affbction draws. 
Careless of censure, or applause ; 
Whose soul is upright and sincere. 
With nought to wish, and nought to fear. 

Now to my visionary scheme 
Attend, nnd profit by my dream. 

Amidst the slumbers of the night, 
A stately temple 'rose to sight ; . 
And iincient As the human race. 
If Nature's purposes you trace. 
Iliis fane, by all the wise revered, 
To wedlock's powerful god was rear'd,. 
Tlard by I saw a graceful sage. 
His hicks were frosted o'er by age ; 
His g:»rb was plain, his mind serene, 
And wisdom tlignificd his mien. 
With curious search his name I sought. 
And found 'twos Hymen's (kv'rite — Thought 



COTTON'S POEMS. 



Apace the giddy crowds •Amoctf 
And a lewd ntyr led the dance : 
1 griev'd to see whole thousands rmi. 
For oh ! what thousands were midofie ! 
The sage, when thsee mad troops b6 spy'd. 
In pity flew to join their side : 
The disconcerted pairs began 
To rail against him, to a man; 
Vow'd they were strangers to his name. 
Nor knew from whence the dotard came. 

But mark the sequel— for this truth 
Highly ooncenis impetuoos youth : 
Long ere the honey-moon coold wane. 
Perdition leiz'd on ev'ry swain ; 
At ev'ry house, and all day long. 
Repentance ply'd her scorpion throng; 
Disgust was there with frowning mien. 
And every wayward child of Splemi. 
Hymen approach'd his awful fisne, 
Attended by a num'rous train : 
Love with each soft and nameless grsoe. 
Was first m fkvour and in place ; 
Then came the god with solemn gait. 
Whose ev'ry word was big with fate ; 
His hand a flamrog taper bore. 
That sacred symbol, famM of yore : 
Virtue, adom'd with ev'ry charm, 
Sustain'd the god's incumbent arm ; 
Beauty improv'd tbe glowing scene 
With all the roses of eighteen : 
Youth led the gayly-smiling (air. 
His purple pinions wav'd in air : 
Wealth, a close hunks, walked hobbling nigh. 
With vulture-claw, and eagle-eye. 
Who threescore years had seen, or more, 
(Tis said his coat had seen a score ;) 
Proud was tbe wretch, tho* clad m rags, 
Presummg much upon his bags, 

A female ne&t her arts dtspby'd. 
Poets alone can paint the maid : 
Trust me, Hogaitb, (tho* ffteat thy &me) 
'Twould pose thy skill to draw the same ; 
And yet thy mimic pow'r is more 
Than ever painter's was before : 
Now she was fair as cygnet's down. 
Now as Mat Prior's Emma, brown ; 
And I changing as the changing fiow'r. 
Her dress she vaiy'd ev'ry hour : 
'Twas Fancy, child ! — You know the fair. 
Who pins your gown, and sets your hair. 

Lo ! the god mounts his throne of state. 
And sits the arbiter of fate : 
His head with radiant glories drest. 
Gently rcclin'd on Virtue's breast : 
i/)vo took bis station on tbe right. 
His quiver beam'd with golden light 
Beauty usurp'd tbe second place. 
Ambitious of distinguish'd grace ; 
She claim'd this ceremonial joy, 
Bccatne rebted to the boy ; 
(Said It was her's to point his dart, 
And speed its passage to the heart ;) 
While on the god's inferior hand 
Fancy and Wealth obtain'd their stand. 

And now the hallow'd rites proceed. 
And now a thousand heart-strings bleed. 
I saw a bloomrag trembling bride, 
A toothleas lover jom'd her aide ; 



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41 



kmtB ifae toro'd her weq>iiig fiM», 
Aad diadder'd at thexsold eiobrace. 

BoBt Tuioas baits their force impart : 
Tbos t^ki lie at Gelia*ft heart : 
A yarsioB mnch too foul to Dame,' 
Oats tapad&oas prudes their fuD» i 
Prades wed to publicans and simien ; 
T%t hungry poet weds for dinners. 

The god with frown indignant Tiew'd 
The nbble covetous or lewd ; 
By er'ry vice his altars stahi'd. 
By ev'ry fool his rites proCan'd : 
When Lore ooaiplain*d of WealA akrod, 
ifinnin^y Wealtii debanch'd the erowd ; 
Drew op hi form his heavy charge, 
Desiriog to be heard at large. 

The god consents, the throng divide. 
The yomig espousM the plaintiff's side : 
The old declar'd for the defendant. 
Bar Age is Mooey's sworn attendant* 

Love said, that wedlock was design*d 
By gradous Heav'n to match the mind ; 
To pair the tender and the just, 
And his the delegated trust : 
1^ Wealth had play'd a knavish part, 
iad taogbt the tongue to wrong the h^rt ; 
Bat what avails the faithless voice ? 
The rejur'd heart disdains the choice.— 

Wealth straight reply'd, that Love was blind, 
Ari talk*d at random of the mind : 
That killing eyes, and bleedmg hearts, 
And an th* arttUeiy of darts. 
Were k»g ago exploded fancies, 
I And laosh*d at even in romances* 

Poets indeed style love a treat, 
' Perhaps for want of better meat : 
Aad k!fe m%fat be delicioas fare, 
CWd we, fike poets live on ur. 
Bat grant that angels foast on love, 
(Thne purer essences above) 
T«C Albion's SODS, be understood, 
Preferr'd a more substantial food. 
Thai while witb gibes he dress'd his came, 
Ss grey admirers bemm'd applause. 

With <ftff»y>»g conquest pert and proud, 
Wcslft shook hb sides, and chuckled loud; 
When Fortune, to restrain his pride, 
iad food to fiivooT Love beside, 
Cyng the miser's tape-ty'd vest, 
BncWd the cares which stung his breast : 
Wokh stood abasfaM at his disgrace, 
tts a deep crimson flnsh'd his face. 

Love sweetly simper'd at the sight 
Ks gay adherents langh'd outright 
Ihe god, tho* grave his temper, smil'd, 
^ Hymen d^rly priz'd the child. 
^ he who triumpbi o'er his brother, 
la tarn is famgfa'd at by another* 
9ieh cmel scores ire often find 
■^■mI ibft criminal in kind. 
f * Pofcrty, that fiftnish'd fiend ! 
AflfaiCaoQS of a wealthy firiend, 
^df^ed into the maser's place, 
^ftar*d the stripling in the face ; 
^'^^ Kps grew pale, and cold as clay ; 
^ tkNi|bt the chit would swoun away. 

Ihe god was studious to employ 
Hacvei to aid the vaoquishM boy ; 



And therefore issn'd his d«cree. 
That the two parties straight agree. 
When both obey'd the god's commands. 
And Love alid Riches join'd their hands. 

What wond'rous change in each was wrought. 
Believe me, fair, surpasses thought 
If Love had many charms before. 
He now had charms, ten thousand more. 
If Wealth had serpents in his breast. 
They now were dead, or lull'd to rest 

Bieauty, that vain affected thing. 
Who join'd the hymeneal ring, 
Approach'd with round unthinking fhce, 
Aixl thus the trifler states her case. 

She said, that Love's complaints, 'twas knofWB, 
Exactly tally'd with her own ; 
That Wealth had leam'd the felon's arts. 
And robb'd her of a thousand hearts ; 
Desiring judgment agahut Wealth, 
For falsehood, peijury, and stealth : 
All which she cou'd on oath depose. 
And hop'd the court would slit his nose. 

But Hymen, when he heard her name, 
Call'd her ai^ interloping dame ; 
Look'd thro* the crowd with angry state. 
And blam'd the porter at the gate. 
For giving entrance to the foir. 
When she was no essential there. 

To sink this haughty tjrrant's pride, 
He ofder'd Fancy to preside. 
Hence, when debates on beauty rise, 
And each bright fair disputes the prize. 
To Fancy's court we straight apply. 
And wait the sentence of her eye ; 
In Beauty's realms she holds the seals, 
And her awards preclude appeals* 



LIFE. 

VISION VIU. 



Lit not the young my precepts shun ; 

Who slight good counsels, are undone* 

Your poet sung of love's delights. 

Of halcyon days and joyous nights; 

To the gay fency lovely themes $ 

And fam I'd hope they're more than dreams. 

But, if you please, before we part, 

I'd speak a language to your heart 

We'll talk ef Life, tho' much, I fear, 

Th' ungrateful tale will wound your ear. 

You raise your sanguine thoughts too high. 

And hardly know the reason why : 

But say life's tree bears golden fruit, 

Some canker shall corrode the root ; 

Some unexpected storm shall rise ; 

Or scorching suns, or chilling skies ; 

And (if experienc'd truths avail) 

All your autumnal hopes shall 4il. 

" But, poet, whence such wide extremes ? 
Well may you style your laboprs dreams. 
A son of sorrow thou, I ween, 
Whose visions are the brats of Spleen. 
Is bliss a vague unmeaning name— 
Speak then the passions' use or aim ; 
Why rage desires without control. 
And rou3e such whirlwinds m the so«l; 



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4f 



COTTOire PO£MS. 



Why itope erects her tow*iiii|t ^"^^ 
And langhSy aod riots m the breast? 
Think not, my weaker bnun tons round, 
Think not, I tread on fiury ground. 
Think not, your pulse akme beats true-* 
lifine makes as li^thiul music too. 
Our joys, when life's soft qpring we trace. 
Put forth their early buds apace. 
See the bloom loads the tender shoot. 
The blodm conceals the future fruit. - 
Yes, manhood's warm meridian iun 
Shall ripen what in spring begun. 
Thus raiant roses, ere th^ blour, 
la germinating clusters grow ; 
And only wait the summer's ray. 
To burst and blossom to the day." 

What said the gay unthinking boy ?<— 
Methougfat Hilario talk'd of joy ! 
TeU, if thou canst, whence joys arise. 
Or what those mighty jojrs you prize. 
You'll find (and trust superior yean) 
The vale of life a vale of tears. 
Could wisdom teach, where joys abound. 
Or riches purchase l^em, when found, 
Woukl scepter'd Solomon complain, 
That all was fleeUng, felse, azid rafai } 
Yet scepter'd Solomon cou'd say 
Returning clouds obscur'd his day. 
Those maxims, which the preacher drew, 
The royal sage experienc'd true. 
He knew the Tarious ills that wait 
Our infiint and meridian state ; 
That tovs our eariiest thoughts engage^ 
And di£rrent toys maturer age ; 
That grief at er'ry stage appears. 
But different griefs at different yean ; 
That vanity is seen, hi part, 
Inscribed on cfv'ry human heart ; 
In the child's breast the spark began, 
Grows with his growth, and glares in maik 
But when in life we joulney late^ . 
If follies die, do gri^ abate ? 
Ah ! what is life at fourscore yean >— 
One darit, rpugh road of sighs, groanp, 

Perhaps you'll thhik I' act the same. 
As a sly sharper plays his game: 
You trimpph er'ry deal that's past. 
He's sure to triumph at the last ; 
Who often wins some thousands mora 
Than twice the sum you won before. 
But I'm a loser with the rest 
For life is all a deal at best ; 
Where not the prize of wealth or feme. 
Repays the trouble of the game ; 
(A truth no winner e'er dcny'd. 
An hour before that winner dy'd). 
Not that with me these prizes shine. 
For neither feme nor wealth are mine. 
My cards ! — a weak plebeian band. 
With scarce an honour in my hand. 
And, smce my trumps are very few, 
What have I more to boast than you ! 
Nor am I gainer by your fell ! 
That harlot Fortune bubbles all. 

Tis truth (receive it ill or well) 
*T» melancholy truth I telt 
Why should the preacher take your peooe, 

id smother truth to flatter sense } 



[teani 
and 



I'm sure, ph3r8icians have no neif£ 
Who kill, thro' lenity of spmL 

That life's a game, divines confess. 
This says at cards, and that at chess : 
But if our views be center'd here, 
Tis all a losing game, I fear. 

Sailors, you know, when wan obtain. 
And hostile vessels crowd the main, 
If they Aisoover from afer 
A bark, as distant as a star. 
Hold the perspective to thdr eyes. 
To learn its cokmn, strength, and size $ 
And when this secret once they know. 
Make ready to reeeive the foe. 
Let you and I from sailors learn 
Important truths of like concern. 

I clos'd the day as custom led. 
With reading, tiU the tame of bed ; 
Where Fancy, at the midnight hour, 
Agam display'd her magic pow'r, 
(For know, that Fancy, like a sprigfat, 
Prefen the silent scenes of night) 
She lodg'd me in a neighb'ring wood. 
No matter where the thicket stood ; 
The genius of the place was nigh. 
And held two pictures to my eye. 
The curious painter had pourtray'd 
Life in each just and genuine shade. 
They, wbQ have only known its dawn. 
May think these lines too deeply drawn | 
But riper years, I fear, will shew. 
The wiser artist paints too true. 

One piece presents a rueful wild. 
Where not a summer's sun had smil'd : 
The road with (horns is oover'd wide, 
And.Orief sits weeping by the side; 
Her tean with coitttant tenour How^ 
And form a moumfril lake below ; 
Whose silent waters, dark and deep. 
Thro' all the gloomy valley creep. 

Passions that flatter, w that slay. 
Are beasts that fewn, or birds that prey. 
Here Vice assumes the serpent's shape; 
There Folly personates the ape ; 
Here Av'rice gripes with harpies' claws ; 
There JtEslice grins with tigen' jaws ; 
Whil^ SO0B of mischief, Art and Guile, 
Are ailigaton of the Kile. 

£v'n Pleasure acts a treach'rous part. 
She charms the sense, but stings the heart; 
And when she gulls us of our wealth. 
Or that superior pearl, our health. 
Restores us nought but pains and woe. 
And drowns us in the lake below. 

There a commission'd angels stands. 
With desolation in his hands ! 
He sends the all-devouring flame. 
And cities hardly boast a name : 
Or wings the pestilential blast. 
And to ! ten thousands breathe their las^ : 
He qpeak»— obedient tempests roar. 
And guilty nations are no more : 
He speaks — the fury Discord raves, 
And^ sweeps whole armies to their graves: 
Or Famine lifts her mildew'd hand. 
And Hunger howls thro* all the land. 

'* Oh ! what a wretch is man," I cry*d, 
" Expos'd to death on ev'ry side ! 



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45 



Aad Mife as bom, to be undone 
Bf erik whidi he caimot shun ! 
Besides a thoMaipd baks to sin, 
A tboaamds traitors iudg'd within I 
For soon as Vioe astsanlts the heart, 
Ibe rebels take the demon's part." 

I s^ my 9dauDg bosom bleeds ;* 
Wben straight the milder phm sooceeds. 
the lake of tears, the dreary shore. 
The ame as in the piece bdR>re. 
But gleams of light are here displayM, 
Toefaeer the eye and gild the shade, 
AfBietion spesks a softer style, 
iad Disappointment wears a InMew 
A groop of Tirtnes blossom near, 
IVeir roots improve by evVy tear. 

Hete Patience, gentle maid i is nigh. 
To esim the storm, and wipe the eye ; 
Hope acti the kind physician's part. 
And warms the solitary heart ; 
Beligion nobler comfort brings, 
Dissnns oar griefi, or blunts jtbeir stmgs ; 
Foiats ont the balance on the whole, 
iad Heaven rewards the struggling seal. 

Bat while these raptures 1 pursue, 
Ihe genius suddenly withdrew. 



DEATH. 



VISION THE LAST. 

Tq tiieugbt my Visions are too grave > ; 
A proof Fm no designing knave. ' 
Pttbaps if Int'reat held the scales, 
I had devis'd quite diiTrent tales; 
Hsd jam* A the latighing low bufibon, 
Aad ssribbled satire and lampoon ; 
C^stifT*d eadi source of soft desire, 
iad CranM the coals of wanton fire; 
IVoi bad my paltry Visions soM, 
Yes, all my dreams had tum'd to gold ; 
Had prov'd the darlings of the town, 
Aad I— « poet of renown ! 

Let not my awful theme sniprite, 
lA no namsnly feaia arise. 
1 vesr no meiaiDcbdy hue, 
Mo wreaths of cypress or of yew. 
1W shrond, tiie coffin, pall, or herse, 
ShaO ne'er defbnn my softer verse : 
It me consign the fbn'ral plume, 
The herald's paint, the scuiptur'd tomb, 
Aad an the soleom farce of graves, 
Toaadeftakcrs and their slaves. 

Yoa know, that moral writers say 
The workPs a stage, and life a play ; 
Ibst ia this drama to succeed, 
K«|oii«s BBuch thought, and toil indeed ! 
Tboe Mill reraatos one labour more, 
V^Bihapi a greater than "before. ^ 

leUge the search, and you shall find 
Tltt harder task is still behind ; 
Tbst hardertask, to quit the stoga 
b early ymth, or riper age ; 
'•leave the ooinnany and place, 
^A fimraess, dignity, and grace. 

Came, then, the closmg scenes survey, 
Tb the last act which crowns the play. 

^ iSee the Monthly Review of Ifew Books, for 
^^wuj 1751. 



Do weH this grand decisive pait. 
And gain the plaudit of your heart. 
Few greatly live in Wisdom's eye- 
But oh! how few who greatly die ! 
Who, when their days approach an end. 
Can meet the foe, as friend meets friend. 

Instructive heroes ! tell us whence 
Your noble scorn of flesh and sense I 
You part from all we prize so dear 
Nor drop one soft reluctant tear : 
Part from those ^tender joys of life, 
Ihe friend, the parent, child, and wife^ 
Death's black and stormy gulph you bimve^ 
And ride exulting on the wave; 
Deem thrones but trifles all ! — no more-* 
Nor send one wishful look to shore. 

For foreign ports and lands unknown. 
Thus the firm sailor leaves his own ; 
Obedient to the rising gale, 
Unmoors his bark, and spreads his sail ; 
Defies the ocean, and the wind, 
Nor mourns the joys he leaves behind*. 

Is Death a powerful monarch } True— • 
Perhaps you dread the tyrant too I 
Fear, like a fog, precludes the light. 
Or swells the object to the sight. 
Attend my visionary page. 
And ril disarm the tyrant's rage. 
Come, let this ghastly form appear^ 
He's not so terrible when near. 
Distance deludes th* unwary eye. 
So clouds seem monsters in the sky t 
Hold frequent converse with him nonf 
He'll daily wear a milder brow. 
Why is my theme with terrour fraught \ 
Because you shun the frequent thought. 
Say, when the captive pard is nigh, / 
Whence thy pale cheek and^frighted eye > 
Say, why dismayed thy manly breast. 
When the grim lion shakes his crest ? 
Because these savage fighU are nei^^ 
No keeper shudders at the view. 
Keepers, accnstom'd to the scene. 
Approach the dens with look serene. 
Fearless thehr grisly charge eaplore. 
And smile to hear the tyrants roar. 
«< Ay—but to die I to bid adieu ! 
An everlasting farewell tooT 
Farewell to ev'ry joy around ! 
Oh! the heart sickens at the sound!** 

Stay, stripling — thou art poorly taught-«- 
Joy didst thou say ?•— discard the thoi^lbt 
Joys are a rich celestial fruit. 
And scorn a sublunary root 
What wears the foce of joy below, 
Is often fbund but splendid woe. 
Joys here, like unsubstantial fome. 
Are nothings with a pompous name; 
Or else, like comets in the sphere. 
Shine with destruction in their rear. 

Passions, like clouds, obscure the sight^ 
Hence mortals seldom judge aright 
The world's a harsh unfruitful soil. 
Yet still we hope, and still we toU ; 
Deceive ourselves with wond'rous art. 
And disappointment wrings the heart 
Thus when a mist collects around. 
And hovers o'er a barren ground. 
The poor deluded trav'ler spies 
bnagin'd trees and stmcturet rfutt 



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COTTON'S POEMS. 



But when the shrooded Sun is clear. 
The desert and the rocks appear. 

" Ah — ^but when youthfol blood nms high. 
Sure 'tis a dreadful tiling to die ! 
To die! and what exalts the gloom, 
I'm told that man survives the tomh ! 
O ! can the learned prelate find 
What future scenes await the mind ? 
Where wings the soul, dislodg'd from clay ? 
Some courteous angel pomt the way ! 
That unknown somewhere in the skies! 
Say, where that unknown somewhere lies ; 
Anid kindly prove, when life is o'er, 
That pains and sorrows are no more. 
« For doubtless dying is a curse, 
If present ills be cbang'd for worse." 

Hush, my young friend, forego the theme. 
And listen to your poet's dream. 

£re-while I took an evening walk, 
Honorio join'd in social talk. 
Along the lawns the zephjrrs sweep. 
Each ruder wind was lull'd asleep. 
The sky, all beauteous to behold, 
Was st|eak*d with azure, green, and gold ; 
But, tho' serenely soft and fair. 
Fever hung brooding in the air ; 
Tlien settled on Honorio's breast, * 
Which shudde^d at the fatal guest 
Ko drugs the kindly wish fulfil, 
Disease eludes the doctor's skill. 
The poison spreads through all the frame. 
Ferments, and kindles into flame. 
From side to side Honorio turns. 
And now with thirst insatiate burns. 
His eyes resign their wonted grace. 
Those friendly lamps escpire apace ! 
The brain's an useless organ grown. 
And Reason tumbled from his tbrone.— • 

But while the purple surges glow. 
The currents thicken as they flow ; 
The blood in ev'ry distant part 
Stagnates and disappomts Uie heart ; 
Befranded of its crimson store, 
The vital engine plays no more. 

Honorio dead, the fun'nil bell 
CalPd ev'ry friend to bid farewell. 
I join'd the melancholy bier. 
And dropp'd the unavailing tear. 

The clock struck twelve— when nature sought 
Repose from all the pangs of thought ; 
And while my limbs were sank to rest, 
A vision sooth'd my troubled breast 

I dream'd the spectre Death appear'd, 
r dream'd his hollow voice I heard ! 
Methought th' imperial tyrant wore 
A state no prince assum'd before. 
All natui« fetch'd a gen'ral groan, 
And lay expiring round his throne. 

I gaz'd — when straight arose to sight 
The most detested fiend of night. 
He shufiHed with unequal pace, 
And conscious shame deform'd his face. 
With jealous leer he squinted round, 
Or fix'd his eyes upon the ground. 
From Hell this frightful monster came, 
Sm was his sire, and'Qailt his name. 

This fury, with ofRclous care, 

'aited around the sov*reiBrn's chair^ 

robes of terrours drest the king, 

i arm'd him with a baneliil stingy 



Gave fierceness to the tyrant's eye. 
And hung the sword upon his thigh. 
Diseases next, a hideous crowd ! 
Proclaimi'd their master's empire bud ; 
And, all obedient to hb will. 
Flew in commission'd troops to kill. 

A rising whirlwind shakes the poles. 
And lightning glares, and thunder wol\$^ 
The monarch and his train prepare 
To range thQ foul tempestuous air. 
Straight to his shoulders he applies 
Two pinions of enormous size ! 
Methought I saw the ghastly form 
Stretch his black wtngs, and mount the storm. 
When Fancy's airy horse I strode. 
And join'd the army on the road. 
As the grim conqu'ror urg'd hb way, 
He scatter'd terrour and dismay. 
Thousands a pensive aspect wore, 
Thousands who sneer'd at Death befbie. 
life's records rise on ev'ry side^ 
And Conscience spreads those volumes wide; 
Mluch faithful registers were brought 
By pale-ey'd Fear and busy Thought 
Tliose faults which artful men conceal. 
Stand here engrav'd with pen of steel, 
By Conscience, that impartial scribe ! 
\Vho8e honest palm disdains a bribe. 
Their actions all like critics view. 
And all like faithful critics too. 
As guilt had stain'd life's various stage. 
What teari of Mood bedew'd the page! 
All shudder'd at the black account. 
And scarce believ'd their vast amount ! 
All vpw'd a sudden change of heart. 
Would Death relent,, and sheathe hb dart 
But, when the awful foe withdrew. 
All to their follies fled anew. 

So when a wolf, who scours at large. 
Springs on the shepherd^s fleecy chai^e^ 
The flock in wild disorder fly. 
And cast behind a frequent eye; 
But, when the victim's home away. 
They rush to pasture and to play. . 

Indulge my dream, and let my pen 
Paint those unmeaning creatures, men. 

Carus, with pains and sickness worn. 
Chides the slow night, and sighs for mom ; 
Soon as he views the eastern ray. 
He mourns the quick return of day ; 
Hourly laments protracted breath. 
And courts the healing hand of Death. 

Verres, oppressed with guilt and shume, 
Shipwreck'd in fortune, health, and fame. 
Pines for hb dark sepulchral bed. 
To mingle with th' unheeded dead. 

With fourscore jrears grey Natho bends, 
A burden to himself and friends ; 
And with impatience seems A) wait 
The friendly hand of ling'ring fate. 
So hirelings wish their labour done. 
And often eye the we:*tem Sun. 

The monarch hears tlieir various grief, 
t)escends, and brings the wbh'd relief. 
On DeatJi witli wild surprise they jitar'd ; 
All seem'd averse ! all unprepared ! 

As torrents sweep with rapid force, 
Tlic grave's pale chief pursu'd his course. 
• No human pow'r can or withstand, 
Or shun the conquests of hi» l'''*"4<v^-^^T^ 



VISIONS IN VERSE. 



45 



Ob! coqU the pfinee of npriglit mindy 

And, as a guardian angel, kind. 

With er'ry heart-feH worth bedide. 

Tun the keen shaft of vDeath aside. 

When voold the bmTe Aagnstus johi 

The ashes of his sacred line j 

Bat Death maintains no partial wgr. 

He mocks a saltan or a czar. 

He bys his iron hand on all — 

Yes, kings, and sons of kinfs, most &Uf 

A tnith Brftannin lately felt. 

And trembled to her centre *■ ! — 

Coo*d ablest statesoien ward the blow, 
Woo'd GranTille own this common foe ? 
For greater talents ne'er were known 
To grace the fiiv'rite of a throae. 

Con»d genios save— wit, learning, fire — 
Tdl me, woakl Chesterfield expire ? 
Say, voa'd his glork)^ Sun decline. 
And set like your pale star or mine ? 

Qm'd ev^ vhrtue of the sky — 
Woo'd Herring «, Butler \ Seeker^ die > 

Why this address to peerage all — 
rntitled Allen*s virtues call ! 
If Allen's worth demands a place, 
Liifds, with your leave, *iis no disgrace. 
Tho^ hig^ your ranks in heralds* rolls^ 
Know Virtue too ennobles souls. 
By her that private man's renownM, 
Who pours a thousand bttesiags round. 
While Allen takes Affliction's part. 
And draws out all his g«!n*rous heart ; 
Andous to seize the fluting day, 
JLfst onimprov'd it steal away ; 
"WhSie thus be walks with jealous strife 
Thro' goodness, as be walks thro* life^ 
Shall not I mark his radiant path ? 
Rise, Muse, and sing the Man of Bath ! 
Pnb^ abroad, cou'd goodness save, 
Allen wou'd disappoint the grave ; 
Traaflated to the heavenly shore. 
Like Enoch, when his walk was o*er. 

Not Beauty's powerful pleas restrain*- 
Her pleas are trifling, woik, and vain ; 
For women pierce with shrieks the air. 
Smite their bare breasts, and rend their hair. 
All have a doleful Ule to tell. 
How friends, sons, daaghteit, husbands fell ! 

Alas ! is life our fiiv'rite theme ! 
Tm all a vain, or painful dream. 
A dicam which Ibob or cowards prize, 
Bot slighted by the brave or wise. 
Who lives, lor others' ills must groan, 
t>r bleed for sorrows of his own ; 
*Mast journey on with weeping eye, 
Then pant, sink, agonize, and die. 

^ And shall a man arraign the skies, 
Because man lives, and mourns, and die* ? 
Impatient resile !" Reason cry'd ; 
** Arraign thy passion and thy pride. 
Itetzie, and commune with thy heart, 
Aik, whence thou cam'st, and what thou art 
Explore thy b6dy and thy mmd, 
Thy station too, why here assignHl. 

* Referring to the death of his late royal highness 
Frederick prince of Wales. 

^ Arrhbcshop of Canterbury. 

* Late bishop of Durham. 
^BisiupofOzfonL 



The search shall teach tiiee life to prize^ 
And make thee gratefiil, good, and wise. 
Wliy do ]rou roam to foreign dimes, 
To study nations, modes, and times ; 
A science often dearly bought. 
And often what avails yon nought } 
Go, man, and act a wiser part. 
Study the science of jrour heart, 
lliis home philosophy, you know. 
Was priz'd some Uiousand years ago '• 
Then why abroad a frequent guest ? 
Why such a stranger to 3roor breast ? 
Why turn so many volumes o'er. 
Till Dodsley can supply no more } 
Not all the volumes on thy shelf. 
Are worth that single volume, self. 
For who this sacred book declines, 
Howe'er in other arts he shines ; 
Tho' smit with Pindar's noble rage. 
Or vers'd in Tully's noanly page ; 
Tbo' deeply read in Plato's school ; 
With all his knowledge is a fool. 

** Proclaim the truth— ^say, what is man ? 
His body from the dust began ; 
And when a few short jrears are o^er. 
The crumbling fabric is no more. 

*' But whence ihe soul ? From Heav'a it camel 
Oh ! prize this intellectual flame. 
This nobler self with rapture scan, 
^Tis mind alone which makes the man. 
Trust me, there's not a joy on Earth, 
But from the soul derives its birth. 
Ask the young rake (he'll answer right) * 
Who treats by day, and drinks by night, 
Wliat makes his entertainments shine. 
What gives the relish to his wine ; 
He *i\ tell thee, (if he scorns the beast) 
That social pleasures form the feast. 
The charms of beauty too shall ploy. 
Unless the soul exalts the joy. 
The mind must animate the fece. 
Or cold and tasteless ev'ry grace. 

«* What ! must the soul her pow»rs dispense 
To raise and swell the joys of sense ?— 
Know too, the joys of sense control. 
And clog the motions of the sonl ; 
Forbid her pinions to aspire, 
Damp and impair her native fire : 
And sore as Sense (that tyrant !) reigns. 
She holds the empress, Soul, in chains. 
Inglorious bondage to the mind, 
Heaven-bom, sublime, and unconfin'd ! 
She's independent, feir and great. 
And justly claims a large estate ; 
She asks no borrow'd aids to shine. 
She boasts within a golden mine ; 
But, like the treasures of Peru, 
Her wealth lies deep, and fiir fh>m view, " 
Say, shall the man who knows her worth, 
DelMse her dignity and birth ; • ^ 

Or e'er repine at Heaven's decree, 
Who kindly gave her leave to be ; 
Caird her from nothing inta day. 
And built her tenement of clay; 
Hear and accept me for your guide, 
(Reasijn shall ne'er desert your side.) 

* KNOW THTseiP — a celebrated sayrag of Chilly 
one of the seven wise men of Greece. 

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46 



COTTOFS PC^MS. 



Who liftent to my wiser voice, 

Gui*t but applaud his maker's choice ; 

Pleas'd with that first and soy'reign cause, 

Plcas'd with unerring Wisdom's laws } 

Secure, since Sor'reign Goodness reigns, 

Secure, since Sov'retgn Pow'r obtains. 
*« With curious eyes review thy frame, 

This science shall direct thy claim. 

IX>st thou indulge a double view, 

A long, long life, and happy too ? 

Perhaps a fiurther boon you crave — 

To lie down easy in the grave ? 

^low then my dictates must prevail, 

Or surely each fond wish shall fail. — 
« Com^ then, is happiness thy aim ? 

Let mental joys be all thy game* 

Repeat the search, and mend your pace. 

The capture shall reward the chase. 

Let ev'ry minute, as it springs. 

Convey fresh knowledge on its wings ; 

het ev'ry minute, as it flies. 

Record thee good fis well as wise. 

While such pursuits your thoughts enga^. 

In a few years you'll live an age. 

Who measures life by rolling years ? 

Fools measure by revolvmg spheres. 

Go thou and fetch th' unerring rule 

From Virtue's, and from Wisdom's schooL 

Who well improves life's shortest day, 

Will scarce regret its setUng ray ; 

Contented with his share of light, 

Nor fear nor wish th' approach of night. 

And when Disease assaults the heart. 

When Sickness triumphs over Art , 

ReflectioDS on a life well past. 

Shall prove a cordial to the last ; 

This med'cme shall the soul sustain. 

And soften or suspend her pain ; 

Shall break Death's fell tyrannic pow'r. 

And calm the troubled dying hour. " 
Blest rules of cod prudential agp ! 

I listen'd, and rever'd the sage. ^ 

When lo ! a form divinely bright 

Descends ^nd bursts upon my sight, 

A seraph of illustrious birth ! 

(Religion was her name on Earth) 
Supremely sweet her radiant feoe. 

And bloommg with celestial grace ! 

Three shining cherubs form'd her train, 

Wav'd their light wings, and reach'd the plain ; 
Filth, with sublime and pieroing eye. 
And pinioas flutt'ring for the sky ; 
Here Hope, that smiling angel, stands. 
And golden anchors grace her hands ; 
There Charity, in robes of white. 
Fairest and fev'rite maid of light I 

The seraph spake — " Tis Reason's pait, 
To govern, and to guard the heart ; 
To lull the wayward soul to rcst^ 
When hopes and fears distract the breast. 
Reason may calm this doubtful strife. 
And steer thy bark thro' various life : 
But when the storms of death are nigh. 
And midnight darkness veils the sky. 
Shall Reason then direct thy sail, 
Disperse the clouds, or sink the gale ? 
Granger, this skill alone is mine, 
U ! that tramcendi his scanty lin«. 



" That hoary sage has coonsd'd rights 
Be wise, nor scorn his friendly light. 
Revere thyself-— thou*rt near ally'd 
To angehi on thy better side. 
How various e'er their ranks or kinds. 
Angels are but unbodied minds ; 
When the partition-walls decay. 
Men emerge angels from their clay. 
" Yes, when the firailer body dies. 
The soul asserts her kindred skies. 
But minds, tho' q>rung from heav'nly race. 
Must first be tutor'd for the place. . 
(The joys above aro understood^ 
And relish'd only by the good) 
Who shall assume this guardian care ? 
Who shall secure their birthright there? 
Soote are my charge — to me 'tis giv'n 
To train them for their native Heav-n, 

'^ Know then— Who bow the early knee. 
And give the willmg heart to me ; 
Who wisely, when Temptation waits. 
Elude her frauds, and spurn her baits ; 
Who dare to own my injur'd cause, 
(Tho' fools deride my sacred laws;) 
Or scorn to deviate to the wrong, 
Tho' Persecution lifts her thong ; 
Tho' all the sons of Hell conspire 
To raise the stake, and light the fire ; 
Know, that for such superior souls. 
There lies a bliss beyond the poles ; 
Where spirits shine with purer ray. 
And brighten to meridian day ; 
Whero love, where boundless friendship rules, 
(No friends tiiat change, no love that cools ! ) 
Where rising floods of knowledge roll. 
And pour and pour upon the soul ! 

** But Where's the passage to the skies !— 
The road thro* Death's black valley lies. 
Nay, do not shudder at my tale — 
Tho* dark the shades, yet safe the vale. 
This path the best of men have trod ; 
And who'd decline the road to God ? 
Oh ! tis a glorious boon to die ! 
This fevour can't be priz'd too high." 

While thus she spake, my looks expressed 
The raptures kindling in my breast : 
My soul a fix'd attention gave ; 
When the stem monaroh of the grave 
With haughty strides approach'd — ^Amaz'd 
I stood, and trembled as I gaz'd. 
The seraph calm'd each anxious fear. 
And kindly wip'd the felling tear ; 
Then hasten'd with es^oded wing 
To meet the pale terrific king. 
But now what milder scenes arise ! 
The tyrant drops his hostile guise. 
He seems a youth divmely fair. 
In graceful ringlets waves his hair. 
His wings their whitening plumes display. 
His bumish'd plumes reflect the day. 
Liglit flows his shining azuro vest. 
And all the angel stands coofest 

I view'd ^he change with sweet surprise, 
AikI oh I I panted for be skies ; 
Thank'd Heav'n, that e'er I drew my breathy 
And triumph'd in the thoughts of DeaUi. 



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THE 



POEMS 



OF 



JOHN LOGAN, ER.S. 



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THE 



LIFE OF JOHN LOGAN. 



BY MR. CHALMERS. 



John LOGAN was bom about the biegimiinsf of the year 1747-fi, at Soutra, in the 
psmfe ofFitla, on the southern extremity of Mid-Lothian, where his futlier reiitod a 
smatt ferm. He appears to htive been taught the first rutiinieiits of learning at the scljool 
of Musselburgh, near EcKntmrgii ; and here, as well as at home, was zealously in- 
itmcterf in the principles of the Calvinislic system of religion, as professed by the Se- 
ceders, a species of dissenters from the established church of Scotland. 

ht 176*2, he entered on the usuat courses of study at the university of Edinburgh, 
wberc he made uncommon proficiency in the leaVned languages, but discovered no 
great mrlinarion for mathematics or metaphysics, although he look care not to be so 
rfefkrient in those branches as to incur any censure, or create any hindrance to his aca^ 
(femicat^ progress. His iverii being originully to works of inm:^inalion, he found much 
tkit was congeniaf, in a course of lectures then read by professor John Stevenson, on 
Aristbtle's Art of Poetry, and 00 Longinus ; and while these directed his taste, he em- 
ptoyed his leisure hours in acquiring a more perfect knowledge of Homer, whos^ 
beauties he reKshed witit poetical enthusiasm. The writings of Milton, and other 
emiiient poets of the English series, became likewise his favourite studies, and the dis- 
cotery of Ossiao^s poems, which took place when he was at college, opened new 
ftmrees of admiratidn and improvement. 

At what time he began to imitate his favourite models, is doubtfid, but as an incli- 
nation to- write poetry is generally precipitate, it is probable that he had |>roduced 
ftttjy of bis lesser pieces^ while at the university: and he had the advice and en- 
c ouiageu ie n t of Dt. John Main, of Athfelstoneford, a clergyman of classical taste, in 
pursuing' a Iracfc winch genius seemed to have pointed out. He had also acf|uired the 
fKendship and patronage of lord Elibank, and of the celebrated Dr. Blair, who re- 
{udbd liira as a* youth of promfsrng talents, and unusual acumen in matters of criti- 
dtai. By retommendtttioil of Dr. Blair, he was, in 17^8, received into the family of 
SbdAk*, j» privatb tutor t<y the present baronet of Ulbster, the editor of those statis- 
fteal* re(^ort9, whidibaye done so* much honour to the clerical character of Scotland. 

Voi. XTIIL S 

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50 LIFE OF LOGAN. 

Here, however, Logan did not remain long, but returned to Edinburgh to attend the 
divinity lectures with a view of entering into the church. Either by reading, or by the 
company he kept, he had already overcome the scruples which inclined bis parents to 
dissent, and determined to take orders in the establishment. 

In 1770, he published a volume under the title of Poems on several Occasions, by 
Michael Bruce, a youth who died at the age of twenty-one, after exhibiting consider- 
able talents for poetry. In this volume, however, Logan chose to insert several pieces 
of his own, without specifying them ; a circumstance which has since given rise to a 
controversy between the respective friends of Bruce and Logan. Bruce's poems have 
been very recently published, for the benefit of his aged mother ; but as hb share 
seems yet undecided, it has not been thought proper to admit them into the present 
collection. Those, however, which have been attributed to Logan by his friend and 
executor ^r. Robertson, of Dalmany, are now added to his avowed productions. 

In 1770, after going through the usual probationary periods, Logan was admitted a 
preacher, and in 1773 was invited to the pastoral charge at $outh Leith, which be. ac- 
cepted. His poems, which had been hitherto circulated only in private, or perhaps 
occasionally inserted m the literary journals, poiqted him out as a proper person to 
assist in a scheme for revising the psalmody of the church. For this purpose, he was 
in 1775, appointed one of the committee ordered by the general assembly (the highest 
ecclesiastical authority in Scotland) and took a very active part in their proceedings, not 
only revising and impro\ing some of the old versions, but adding others of his own 
composition. Thb collection of Translations and Paraphrases, was published in 1781» 
under the sanction of the general assembly. 

About two years before thb publication appeared, he had prepared a course of 
lectures on the Philosophy of Hbtoiy, and had on thb occasion consulted Drs. Robert- 
son, Blair, Carlble, and other eminent men connected with the university of Edinburgh, 
who seemed liberally inclined to promote his success. The first request, however, 
which he had to make happened not to be within their power. He desbed the use 
of a room in the college for the delivery of his lectures, but by the statutes no indul- 
gence of that kind can be granted to persons teaching or lecturing on subjects for 
which regular professors are already appointed. He then hbed a chapel, in which 
he delivered his first course of lectures in 1779-80, and his auditors, if not very nume- 
rous, were of Uiat kind whose report was of great consequence to hb fame. In hb 
second course, he had a larger auditory, and attracted so much notipe, that he enter- 
tained very sanguine hopes of being promoted to the professorship of history, which 
became vacant about this time. 

He,rc, however, an obstacle presented itself which he had not foreseen, and which 
his friends could not remove. It had been the invariable practice of the patrons to 
present to this ofiice a member of the faculty of advocates, and in the present instance 
their choice fell upon Mr. Frazer Tytler, since lord Woodhouselee, a gentleman whose 
talents, had talents been the criterion, must liave excluded all competition. — Whether 
owing to tlib appointment, or to the decay of publick curiosity. Lean's lectures- were 
no longer encouraged ; but in 1 7S1, he publbhed an analysb of them, entitled. Ele- 
ments of the Philosophy of libtory, and soon af^er one entire lecture m the form of 
an Essay on the Manners of Asia. Both were favourably received, yet without those 



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UFE OF LOGAN. 6i 

(kdm prodEi of encouragement which could justify his publishing the whole course, 
as be probably intended. 

Ui the same year appeared his volume of Poems, which were so eagerly bought up, 
that a second edition became necessary within a few months. Such popularity induced 
kill to oomplele a tragedy which he had been for some time preparing, entitled Ru- 
Bunede, and founded upon the history of the great charter. This tragedy was ac« 
cepted by the manager of Covent Garden tlieatre, but was interdicted by the licenser 
of the stage, as contaming political allusions that were improper. It was printed, how- 
cfer, io 1783, and aftet wards acted on the Edinburgh theatre, but met with no extra- 
odinarj applause either in the closet or on the stage. In this attempt, mdeed, the 
author seeikis to have mistaken his talents. In Scotland, his biographer informs us, he 
had to encounter the general prejudices of that country against the interference of the 
dergy m theatrical concems. 

Tbeae disappointments, we are toM, ** preydd with pungent keenness upon a mind 
oBcommoaly susceptible." '' Hb temper,** it is added " was still further fretted by 
the mnbrage which some of his parish had unjustly taken at his engaging in studies 
i^rdign to hb profession, and which others, with more reason, had conceived on ac- 
count of certain deviations from the propriety and decorum of hb clerical character, 
tboiigh not a few of them were sufficiently liberal in their allowances for irregularities 
which could only be attributed to inequality of spirits aad irritability of nefves." 

Thb vindication b specious, but will not bear examinatioa. There could surely be 
•0 great injustice in complaimng of studies which diverted him from hb profession, a 
profesaion which he had voluntarily chosen, and in which be was liberally settled ; or 
«f irregulaiities which unfitted him to perform its duties, and obliged him at last to 
coapoond for hb inability or neglect by retking upon a small annuity. Yet such was 
the case, and with thb annuity, or with the promise of it, he came to London in ] 7Sd, 
aad for some time subsisted by furnishing articles for the Englbh Review, and perhaps 
other periodical pubhcations.. He wrote also a pamphlet, entitled A Review of the 
priac^nl Charges against Mr. Hastings, which was a very able and eloquent vimli- 
catioB of that gentleman ; and probably appeared in that light to the publick at large, 
fer the publisher against whom the friends of the impeachment directed a prosecution, 
was acquitted by the verdict of a jury. This last consequence, Logan did not live to 
vitoeas. His health had been for some time broken, and he died at his apartments 
Id Marlboroogh-street, Dec. 28, 1788, in the fortieth year of his age. 

Notwithstanding hb faihngs, it is with pleasure we copy the following passage from 
the lift prefixed to the late edition of his poems. 

" The end of Logan^ was truly Christian. When he became too weak to hold a 
hook, he employed hb time in hearing such young persons as vbited him read the 
Scriptures. Hb conversation turned chiefly on serious subjects, and was most affect- 
Bg and instructive. He foresaw and prepared for the approach of death, gave direc- 
I about fab funeral with the utmost composure, and dictated a distinct and judi- 
I will, appointing Dr. Donald Grant, and hb ancient and steady friend Dr. Hobert« 
•OS, hb executors, and bequeathing to them hb property, books, and MSS. to be con- 
vetted mto money, for the payment of legacies to those relations and friends, who had 
^ strcN^est claims upon hb affectionate remembrance in hb dving moments.*' 



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i2 UFE OF LOGAN. 

Dr. Roberhoii accordi:ig!y prepared a Tohime of his Sermons, which was puMisbed 
in 1 7ix>, and a second in the following year. Tbey are in general elegant and per- 
spicuous, bet occasionally burst into passages of the declamatory kiod, which> bow* 
ever, are perhaps not unsuitable, to the warmth of pulpit oratory. They have beca 
uncommonly successful, the fiAh edition havinji^ made its appearance in 18()7« He 
left several other manQscrtpts which were once intended forj>ub!ication» AniODgtb€*se 
are his Lectures on History, and three or four tragedies. 

In ] 805, a new edition of his poems was published at Edinburgh and London* lo 
which a Life is prefixed by an anouymous writer. From this the facts contained ia 
the present more succinct sketch have been borrowed. 

Logan deserves a very, high rank among our minor poets. The chief character o€ 
his poetry is the patlietic, and it will not perhaps be easy to produce any pieces from 
the whole range of English poetry more exquisitely tender and patlietic than The 
Braes of Yarrow — ^The Ode on the death of a young Lady, or A Visit to the CoHntry 
in Autumn— The Lovers, seems to assume a higher character; the opening lines, 
spoken by Harriet, rise to sublimity by noble gradations of terrour, and ao aecimula- 
tion of images which are, with peculiar felicity, made to vanish on the appearance of 
her lover. In the whole of Logan's poems, are passages of true poetic spirit and seiw 
sibility. With a fancy so various and regulated it is to be regretted, he did not more 
frequently cultivate his talents. The episode of Levina, among the pieces attrflnited 
to him, kidicates powers that might have appeared to advantage in a regukir poem 
of narration and description. His sacred pieces are allowed to be ^ the iaferior 
kind, but diey are infenor only as they are not original ; he strives to throw an air of 
modem elegance over the simple language of the East, consecrated by use and devo- 
tional spirit; and be fails where Watts and others have failed belbre hini» an4 where 
Cowper only has escaped without mjury to his general character. 



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POEMS 



OF 



JOHN LOGAN. 



ODE 

TO THE CUCKOO. 

TTAIL, beauteou* ^traii.;;er of the grove ! 
j^* Thou mcsseneer of iipring ! 
Now Heaven repai.> thy rurai feeat. 

And woods iliy wtlcofnc sing. 
What time the daisy decks the green, 

Thy certain voice we hear j 
Hast thou a btar to guide thy path. 

Or mark tJie roUiqg ye^r ? 
Dfh^htful visitant ! with thee 

I hail the time of flowcrt, 
And hear the sound o* music sweet 

From birdii among the bowers. 
The schooJ-boy, wanderiner thro' the wood 

To pull the priraruse pay. 
Starts, the new voice tif Mprmg to hear. 

And imitates thy lay. 
What time the pea puts on the bloom 

Thou nie^t thy vocal vale. 
An annual sruest in other lauds, 

Aijotlier Spring to hail. 
S»e^ biri ! thy bower is ever green. 

Thy sky is ever clear; 
Thou bast no sorrow in thy song. 

No winter in thy year ! 

We'd make, with joyful wing, 
Unr annual visit o'er the globe, 
Companions of the Spring. 



SONG. 



THE BRAES OF YARROW. 
Tinr braes were bonny, Yarrow stream ! 
When first on them I met my lover j 
Thy braes bow dreary. Yarrow str^m ! 
When now thy wares his body cover I 



For ever now, O Yarrow stream ! 
Thou art to me a stream of sorrow; 

For never on thy banks shall I 

licliold my love, the flower of Yarrow. 
** He promised me a milk-white steed. 

To bear me to his f<ither's bowe« ; 
He prjuii 0.1 nie a llttlf |v^c, 

To Vjuirc mo to hi^ fatJ.er's towers ; 

He proaiisfvl uie a werldj »K-ring, 

The wc(lfiiti2r-day was .i\M to morrow:— 
Xow he is w."{,?c(l to his -rave, 
Alaj;, his watery grave, in Yarrow ! 
Srttct wcio his words when last we met: 
My pabNJoii I as frerly told him ! 
Chisp'd in his arms, 1 little thought 
^ That I should never more behold him • 
Scarce was iie gone, I saw hi^ ghost ; 

It vanishM with a shriok of sorrow ; 
Thrice did the water-wr^irh a«(^end, 

And gave a doleful grtmn thro' Yarrow ! 
His mother from the window look'd, 
VVith nil the Urvvr)r; ot a mother; 
His little sister \v»Mpin£: walk'd 

The green-wood y»r»th to meet her brother : 
They sou-ht him east, they soncjht him west] 

They soiis^ht him all the forest thorough ; 
They only saw the cloud of iii^^ht, 

Thej' on!y heard the roar ot Yarrow ! 
" No loneer from thy window look, 

Thou bast no son, thou tender mother ! 
No longer walk, thou lovely maid ; 

Alas, thou hast no more a brother ! 
No longer seek him east or west. 

And search no more the forest thorough; 
For, wandering in the night so dark. 
He fell a lifeless corse in Yarrow, 
•' The tear shall never leave my cheek, 

No other youth shall be my marrow i ; 
I'll seek thy body in the stream. 
And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow." 

Ulate. 

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54 



LOGAN'S POEMS. 



The tear did never leavfl her cheek, 
No other youth became her marrow ; 

She found his body in the stream. 

And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow. 



ODE 
ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY. 

The peace of Heaven attend thy shade. 

My early friend, my favourite maid ! 

When life was new, companions gay. 

We haird the morning of our day. 

Ah, wit^ what joy did I behold 

The flower of beauty fair unfold ! 

And fear'd no storm to blast thy bloom. 

Or bring thee to an early tomb I 

Untimely gone ! for ever fled 

The roses of the cheek so red ; 

Th* affection warm, the temper mild. 

The sweetness that in sorrovf smil'd. 

Alas ! the cheek where beauty glow»d. 

The heart where goodness overflowed, 

A clod amid the valley lies. 

And ** dust to dust'' the mourner cries. 

O from' thy kindred early torn, ^ 
And to thy grave untimely borne ! 
Vanish'd for ever from my view, 
Thou sister of my soul, adieu ! 
Fair, with my first ideas twin'd, 
Thine image oft will meet my mind ; 
And, while remembrance brings thee near, 
Afibction sad will drop a tear. 
How oft does sorrow bend the head, 
Befor© we dwell among the dead I 
Scarce in the years of manly prime, ' 
I've often wept the wrecks of time. 
What tragic tears bedew the eye ! 
What deaths we suffer ere we die I 
Our broken friendships we deplore. 
And loves of youth that are no more ! 

No after^firiendship e'er can raise 
Th* endearments of our early days j 
And ne'er the heart such fondness prove. 
As when it first began to love. 
Affection dies, a vernal flower; 
And love, the blossom of an hour; 
The spring of fancy cares control. 
And mat the beauty of the soul. 
Ver^'d in tlje commerce of deceit. 
How soon the heart forgets to beat ! 
The blood runs cold at mt'rest's call :— 
They look with equal eyes on all. 
Then lovely Nature is expeli'd. 
And Friendship is romantic held ; 
Then Prudence comes with hundred eyes : 
The veil is rent — the vision flics. 
The dear illusions will not last ; 
The era of enchantment 's past ; 
The wild romance of life is done ; 
The real history is begun. 
The sallies of the soul are o'er. 
The fe^ist of fancy is no more ; 
Ami ill the banquet is supply'd 
By fonn, by gravity, by pride. 



Ye gods! whatever ye witbhoM, 
Let my affections ne'er grow old ; 
Ne'er may the human glow depart. 
Nor Nature yield to fii^rid Art ! 
Still may the generous bosom bum, 
Tho' doom'd to bleed o'er beauty's urn ; 
And still the friendly food appear, 
Tho' moistcn'd with a tender tear ! 



ODE 

TO WOMEN. 

Ye virgins ! fond to be admtr'd, 
With mighty rage of conquest fir'd. 

And universal sway ; 
Who heave th' uncover'd bosom high. 
And roll a fond, inviting eye, 

Uu a)l the circle gay ! 

You miss the fine and secret art 
To win the castle of the heart. 

For which you all contend ; 
The coxcomb tribe may crowd your tnuR, 
But you will never, never gain 

A lover, or a friend. 
If this your passion, this your praise. 
To shine, to dazzle, and to blaze. 

You may be call'd divine : 
But not a youth beneath the sky 
Will say in secret, with a sigh, 

*' O were that maiden mine !** 
You marshal, brilliant, from the box, 
Fans, featliers, diamonds, castled locks. 

Your magazine of arms ; 
But 'tis the sweet sequester'd walk, 
The whispering hour, the tender talk. 

That gives yoor genuine channs. 
The nymph-like robe, the natoral gFM^e, 
The smile, the native of the fiice^ 

Refinement without art ; 
The eye where pure affection beams. 
The tear from tenderness that streains, 

The accents of the heart ; 
The trembling frame, the living cheek. 
Where, like the morning, blushes break 

To crimson o'er the breast; 
The look where sentiment is seen. 
Fine passions moving o'er the mien. 

And all the soul exprftst : 

Your beauties these : with these you shine. 
And reign on high by right divine, 

llie sovereigns of the world ; 
Then to your court the nations flow ; 
The Muse with flowers the path will strew. 

Where Venus* caf is hurl'd. 
From dazxling deluges of snow. 
From summer noon's meridian glow. 

We turn our aching eye. 
To Nature's robe of vernal green. 
To the blue curtain all serene. 

Of an autumnal sky. 
The favourite tree of beauty's queen. 
Behold the myrtle's modest green. 

The virgm of the groTe^! , 

.gitizedbyCjOOgle 



HYMN TO THE SUN. . • . .ODE IN SPRING, 



5i 



Soft firaoi the circlet of her stir, 
7W tender turtles draw the car 

Of Veous and of Love. 
The puvkag charm invites the eye ; 
See Boroing sradua) paint the sky 

With purple and with gold .' 
%e Spring approach with sweet delay ! 
^ raaeirada open to the ray, 

And leaf by leaf oufold! 
We lore th' alloring line of grace, 
Tte leads the eye a wanton chase. 

And lets the fimcy rove ; 
The ws& of Beauty ever bends, 
Aad still begins, bat never ends 

Tike labyrinth of Love. 
At times, to veil is to reveal. 
And to display is to amoeal ; 

MysteriuQs are yoor laws ! 
The visMi finer than the view ; 
Her landscape Nature never drew 

So lur as Fancy draws. 
A beauty, carelessly betray*d, 
Fs— o ars more, than if displayed 

All woaian*s charms were given ; 
And, o*er the bosocn's \-cstal white. 
The gauze appears a robe of light. 

That veils, yet opeos. Heaven. 
Set vngiB Eve, with graces bland 
ftesh blooming from her Maker*s hand, 

la orient beauty beam ! 
1^ on the river-margin laid, 
Sk knew not that her image made 

The angel in the stream. 
MB aneient £deo blooms yoor own ; 
te artleas innooence alone 

Secures the heavenly post ; 
For a, beoeath an angel's mien, 
TW serpent's tortuous train is seen. 

Our Paradise is lost 
O Katore, Nature, thine the charm ! 
Tfaycolonrs woo, thy features warm, 

Tby accents win the heart 1 
Ionian paint of every kind 
That stains the body or the mind. 

Proclaims the harlot's art. 

1W midu i gb t minstrd of the grove. 
Who still renewa the hymn of love. 

And wooa the Wood to hear; 
Kasvs not the sweetness of his strain, 
Ssr that, above the tuneful train. 

He charms the lover's ear. 



The aooe of Veous, heavenly-fine. 
Is Nalare^ handy-work divine. 

And not the web of Art; 
Mai they who wear it never know 
To what eochaating charm they owe 

TV empire of the heart 



OSSIAN^S 

HYMN TO THE SUN. 

noQ wtea beams the sea-girt Earth array, 
Ciag of thefty, and father of the day ! 
OSaa! what fountain, hkJ from human eyeiy 
Sspffiei thj drda igqod the nMliaot akiMy 



F(»r ever burning, and for ever bright. 
With Heaven's pure fife, and everlasting light? 
What awful beauty in thy face appears! 
Immortal youth, beyond the power of years ! 

When ploonny darkness to thy reign resigns. 
And from the gates of mom tby glory shines, 
The conscious stars are put to sadden flight. 
And all the planets hide their heads in night; 
The queen of Heaven forsakes th' ethereal plain, 
To sink inglorious in Die western main. 
The clouds refulfreuv deck thy golden throne. 
High in the Heavens, imroortAl and alone ! 
Who can abide the brightness of thy face ! 
Or who attend thee in thy rapid race ! 
The mountain oaks, like their own leaves decay ; 
I'hemseh^es the mountains wear with age away ; 
Tlie boundless main that rolls from land to land, 
Lessens at times, and leaves a waste of sand ; 
The silver Moon, refulgent lamp of night, 
Is lost in Heaven, and eniptied of her light ^ 
But thou for ever shalt endure the same. 
Thy light eternal, and unspent thy flame. 

When tempests with their train impend on higln^ 
Darken the day, and load the labouring sky ; [dire. 
When Heaven's wide convex glows with lightnings 
All ether flaming, and all Earth on tire : [rolls. 
When lOud and long the deep-mouth'd thumlcr 
And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles ; 
If from the opening clouds thy form appears. 
Her wonted charm the face of Nature wears ; 
Thy beauteous orb restores departed day. 
Looks fram the sky, and laughs the storm away. 



ODE 



WRITTEN IN SPRINa 

No longer hoary Wititer reigns. 

No longer binds the streams in chains, 

Or heaps with snow the meads i 
Array 'd with robe of rainbow-dye. 
At last the Spring appears on high. 
And smiling over earth and sky. 

Her new creation leads. 
The snows confess a warmer ray. 
The looseu'd streamlet loves to stray, 

And echo down the dale ; 
The hills uplift their summits g^reen. 
The vales more verdant spread between, 
The cuckoo in the wood ueseen 

Coos ceaseless to the gale. 
The rainbow arching woos the eye 
With all the colours of tlie sky 

With aH the pride of Spring ; 
Now Heaven descends in sunny showers, 
The sudden fields put on the flowers. 
The green leaves wave upon the bowers, 
* And birds begin to sing. 

The cattle wander in the wood. 
And find the wanton verdant food. 

Beside the well known rills ; 
Blithe in the sun the shepherd swain 
Like Pan attunes the pastoral strain. 
While many echoes send again 

The music of the hills. 

At eve, the primrose path along. 

The milkmaid shortens with a song , OOQ Ic 



ts 

Her solitary way ; 
She Sees the Pairi«s with their queeo. 
Trip haud-in-hand the circled green, 
And hears them raise at times, unseen. 

The ear-eDchauting lay. 
Maria, come ! now let us rove, 
Kow gather smrlands in the grove. 

Of cn'cry new-spn»nff flower ; 
We'll hear the warhlings of the wood. 
We'll trace the windings of the flood j 

come, tboii fairer than the bwd 

Uafoidinj: in a ^h1>uer ! 
Fair as the My of the vale, 
Tliat gives its bosom to the gale 

And opens iu the sun j 
And ^wtft*?r thttn thj* fa\ourite dove, 
Tli« Senas of the Vf^mal jfrove, 
Anuouaciug to the chuirs of love. 

Their tin)e of J)!iss h^mm. 
N*jw, now thy sprinsr of life appear', 
Fair in the muriVmg of thy ycai-s, 

And May ot beauty ciimu'd : 
Now vernal visions meet thine eyes, 
Poetic dreams to fancy ris>e, 
Ami brighter days in bt-tter skies ^— 

EJysjuiu bliMims around. 
Now, non's the m'^>rning of thy day ; 
"But, ah ! ll.c morning tiles away, 

A»^d yonth is on the ving ; 
'Tis "Natnie's voice, •* O pull the rose, 
Now while the bud in beauty blows, 
Now wh.Ie the opening leaves disclose 

The incense of the Spring I" 
What youth, high favoured of the skies. 
What youth t^hall win the brightest prize 

That ^'ature has in store ? 
Whose conscious eyes shall meet with thine j 
Whose arms tliy yielding waist entwi«M ; 
Who, mvisii'd w iih tliy charms divine, 

Ii€quin.*s of Heaven no more ! 
Not happier the primeval pair, 
When new-made Earth, supreniely foi.', 

SmiPd on her virgin Spring ; 
When all was fair to God's own eye. 
When stars coni>eriting »in>g on high, 
And all f leaven's chorus made the sky 

With hallelujahs ring. 
Devoted to the Muses'. »boif, 

1 tune the Caledonian lyre 

To themes of high fen »wn : — 
No other theme than you 1 *H chuse, 
Tluin you invoke no other Muse : 
Nor will that gentle hand refuse 

Thy bard with bays to cromau 
Where hills by storied streams ascend, * 
My dreams and waking w'isbes tend 

Poetic ease to woo j 
Where Fairy fingers curl tlie grove, 
Where Grecian spirits round ni« rove, **v 
Alone enamour'd witli the love 

Of Nature and of yon ! 

SONO, 

Tub day is departed, and rontU ftom the cloud 
The Moon in her beauty appean ; 



LOGAN'S POEMS. 



The voice of the nigfctJngrfe warbtes alooA 

The music of love in our ears : 
Maria, apj>ear ! now the seasim so sweet 

With the beat r>f the heart h in tune | 
The time is so tender for lovers to meet 

Alone by the light of ibe Moon. 
I cannot when present unfold what 1 feel, 

I sigh^-can a lover do mo-e ? 
llcr name to the shepherds 1 newr reveal. 

Yet I think of ber all the day o'er. 
Maria, my love ! do you lo»g for the growe f 

Do you 8;;ih for an interview soon ! 
Does o'er a kind thought npi on me as you Rwo 

Alone by the light of the Moyii ! 
Your name from the shepords whenever I hear 

My bosom is all in a glow ; 
Your voice whc^o it vibratea ao sweet thro' mine car 

My heart thrills — my eyes overflow. 
Ye powers ot the sky, will your bounty diriue 

Indul.-e a fund lover bis boim ? 
Shall heart spring to heart, a»d Maria be mioe. 

Alone by the light of tha Mijoa i 



ODB 



TO SLEEP, 

fn vain I court till dawning light 

Fhe coy divjnity of nigbt ; 

lie^tlcss, from side to side I turn, 

Arise, ye musings of the morn ! 

Oh, Sle< p ! tho' banish'd from those eyes. 

In vinous fair to Delia ri«e ; 

Ami o'er a dearer form dHiiue 

Thy healing balm, thy lenient dew». 

Blest be her night as infant's rest, 

Luird on the fond maternal breast. 

Who, swct'tly.playful, smi'es in sleep. 

Nor knows that he is bom to weep. 

Remove the terrours of the night. 

The phantom-fom^s of wild affright, 

Thf shrieks from precipice or flood, 

And starting scene that swims with blood, 

Lead her aloft to bloojniug bowers. 

And bcJs of amaranthine flowers, 

And golden skies and glittering streams, 

J'ijat paint the paradise of dreams. 

Venus ! present a lover near. 

And gently whisper in b«r ^^V 

Mis woes, who, lonely and forlorn. 

Counts the slow clock from night till mom. 

Ah ! let no portion of my pain, 
Save just a tender trace, reuaams 
Asleep consenting to be kind. 
And wake with X>apbnis ip her mind. 



ODE 

TO A YOUNG I-ADY, 

M ARfA, bright witli beauty's glow. 
In conscious gaiety you go 

ITje pride of all the Park .• 
Attracted groupes in silence gaze. 
And soft behind you hear the prai8e| - 

And ir^»per of the ^ark. J Ic 



ODE TO A MAN OF LETTERS. 



«7 



b Fancy't airy dumot wfairi'd, 
Yoo make the circle of the worid. 

And daoce a diziy round : 

I The maids and kindltnir y<)Ut!)s behold 

YoQ triumph o'er the enrioos old. 

The (jOfrea of beauty crowu'd. 
WUre'er the beams of Fortune blaz'*, 
Ot f a«hi n s wbi:*pcrin!^ zephyr plays, 

The iasert trilie attfods ; 
Giy-|ditttTin5 ihro* a snaiuner's day. 
The s»lk.»n mviUds melt away 

BHbr.* a Sun descends. 
Divor^M fiom elegant delight, 
The Tcl^'ar Venus holds her night 

An aikn t'l the ikies ; 
Her lws.\:i breathes no finer fire, 
No radia'v.v of dirine desire 

I!!irLos rv-siKiii^ive eye^ 
God.-; sh^II a fordid a>« of , Earth 
Ldfjid a f'»r»n of lieavenly bbth, 

AimJ rav so joyi* divine ; 
Aa angel it\ess uacmt^chHU arms } 
The cirrlc of surrendered charms 

rnhal towed hands entwiue ? 
The absent dav ; the broken droMO ; 
The TrnoQ w.M ; the •udden »cream ; 

Tears that unbidden flow ! — 
111 ! let no sense of gj\efs profound 
That beauteous bosom ever wound 

Wkh unavailiog woe ! 
I The wik) enchanter Youth beguiles. 
Aid FjiieyS (any lan4jio«pe smiles 
I W.iJi m ^re than Nature's bloom ; 

Tke spnag t»f Eden paints your bowers, 
Cikietting fcuns your pn.>m".sM hours 

WttU goUlcn light iHume. 
A haad advancing: strikes the bell ! 
That sound dissolves the pMgic speH, 

And all the charm is fuoe ! 
The vaiooary landscape flies : 
At oace th' aerial music dies ; 

lo wikls you walk alone. 
Howe'er the wrod of Fortune blows, 
Or sadly -so-enug fate dh>po9e 

Our everlastinsc doom ; 
impnanotm never lelt btffbre, 
Afid tr auy uts to return no more, 

WiU haunt me to the tomb ! 
Mv God ! the pangs of Nature past, 
WiU e'er a kiod remcmbrsMice laU 

Of pleasures sadly sweet ? 
Ca love assume a calmer name ? 
My eyes with friendship's aogel-flame 

Ad angcl*s beauty meet ? 

Ak I dioaki that first of fin«r IbnM 
Keqoire, tfaro* life's iiinwimlin^ HarsH, 
I Asyaapatby ofaaul ; 

^ Wfcd Mam oTlfaa ■MKl 
Wa soai me, oo tfaa «i«gs «f viad. 
To Indus «r tte Bale. 



ODE 

TO A MAN OP t&rnsBS. 

Ia Winier's hoar danimoB pait f 
Ar.cKed is fass eastem Wast 



The fiend of Nature flies ; 
Breathing the spring, the zepbyta play. 
And re-inthron'd the lord of day 

Resumes the golden skies. 
Atten lant on the gcoial honrs, 
The voluntary shades aud flowers 

For r<iral lovers spring; 
W\\d cUors un-^eea in coneert join. 
And round Apollo's rustic shrine 

The sylvan Mi»«s sing. 

The finest vernal "bloom that blows, 
The sweetest voice the forest knows. 

Arise to vanish soon ; 
The rose unfolds her robe of light, 
And Philomela gives her night 

To Richmond and to June. 
With bounded ray, and transit' ot grace, ' 

Thus, Varro, holds ihe human race 

Their plice and hour assign'dj 
f/iud let the venal trumpet souud. 
Responsive never will reboimd 

Tiie echo of mankind. 

Yon forms divine that d» ck the sphere, 
The radiant rulers of tlje year, 

Coi)f<<ss a nribler hand ; 
Tbron*d in tlie majesty of mom, 
Behold the king of day adorn 

The 6kie6, the sea, the land. 
Nor did th' Almighty raise the sky. 
Nor hang th' eternal latnps on high. 

On one abode to shine ; 
The circle of a thousand nuus 
Extends, while Nature's period runs 

The theatre divine. 

Thus some, whom smiling Nature haili 
To sacred springs, and chosen vales. 

And streams of old renown ; 
By noble toils and worthy scars. 
Shall win their raantiioa *niid the stars. 

And wear th* immortal crowu. 
Bright in the firmaoMnt of Fatne 
The lights of ancient ages flame 

With never setting ray, 
On worlds uufbund from history torn. 
O'er ages deep in tine unborn. 

To pour the buoiaQ day. , 

Won from oegleeied wastes of time, 
Apollo bads his fairest come. 

The provinces of mind ; 
An Egypt ', with eternal towers. 
Sec Montesquieu redeem the boun. 

From Lewis to mankind. 
No tame remission genius knows | 
No interval of dark repose. 

To quench the ethereal flame ; 
From Thebes to Troy the victor hie^ 
And Homer with his hero viet 

In varied paths to £sme 
The orb which rui'd thy natal mgfat 
And usher'd in a greater light 

Than sets the pole on fire. 
With undimmj^h'd lo^re crown'd, • 
Unwearied walks th' eternal roondy 

Amid the heavenly quu^ 

» The finest prorinces of Egypt, gained from a 
neglected waste. 



V 



5S 

Proud in triumphal chariot huri*d, 
And crown'd the mastert of the worid. 

Ah! let MOt Philip'* SOD, 
His soul in Syrian softness drown'd, 
His brows with Persian garlands bound, 

The race of pleasure run ! 
With crossing thoughts Alcides prest, 
The awful goddess thus addressed, 

And pointing to the prize : 
" Behold the wreath of ghiry shine ! 
And mark the onward path divine 

Tliat opens tp the skies ! 
" The heavenly fire must ever bum,. 
The hero's step must never turn 

From yon sublime abodes : 
Long must thy life of labount provt 
At last to die the son of Jove, 

And mingle with the gods." 



LOGANS POEMS. 



THE LOVERS: 



A POEM, 
The lovers, in the following poem, were descended 
of houses that had been long at variance. The 
lady is first introduced as leaving her father's 
bouse, and venturing out in the darknea&'of the 
night to meet with her lover. They meet at 
the appointed hour. The rest of the dialogue 
passes in the chariot. 

HABRIBT. 

»Ti$ midnight dark : 'tis silence deep ; 
My father's house is hush'd in sleep ; 
Id dreams the lover meets his bride, 
She sees her lover at her side ; 
The mourner's voice is now supprest, 
A while the weary are at rest : 
*Tb midnight dark ; 'lis silence deep; 
I only wake, and wake to weep. 
^The window 's drawn, the ladder waits, 
J spy no watchman at the gates : 
No tread re-echoes thro* the hall. 
No shadow moves along the wall. 
I am alone. Tis dreary night, — 
O come, thou partner of my flight ! 
Shield me from darkness, from alarms ; 

take me trembling to thine arms ! 
The dog howls dismal in the heath. 
The raven croaks the dirge of death ; 
Ah me ! disaster's in the sound ! 
The terrours of the night are round ; 
A sad mischance my fears forebodt. 
The demon of the dark 's abroad. 
And lures, with apparition dire. 

The night-struck man thro' flood and flrv. 
The bowlet screams ill-boding sounds, 
The spirit walks unholy rounds; 
The wizard's hour eclipsing rolls ; 
The shades of Hell usurp the poles ^ 
The Moon retires ; the Heav'n depait^- 
From opening Earth a spectre starts : 
My spirit dies— away my fears. 
My love, my life, my lord appears \ 

BEKSr. 

1 oome, I come, my love; my lifel 
^M Nature's deanst name, my wift I 



Long have I lov'd thee ; 'long have soagbt ; 
And dangers brav'd and battles fought ; 
In this embrace our evils end ; 
From this our better days ascend ; 
The year of suffering now is o'er. 
At last we meet to part no more ! 
My lovely bride ! my consort, come I 
The rapid chariot rolls thee home. 



I fear to go— I dare not stay. 

Look back. — I dare not look that way. 



No evil ever shall betide 
My love, while I am at her side. 
Lo ! thy protector and thy friend ; 
The arms that fold thee wjU defend. 



Still beats my bosom with alarms : 
i tremble while Pm in thy arms ! 
Wliat will impassiun'd lovers do ? 
What have i done — to follow you ? 
I leave a father torn with fears ; 
I leave a mother bath'd in tears ; 
A brother girding on his sword 
Against my life, against my lord. 
Now, without father, mother, friend. 
On thee my future days depend ; 
Wilt thou, for ever true to love, 
A father, mother, brother, prove ? 
O Henry I — ^to thy arms I fiill, 
My friend ! my husband ! and my all * 
Alas ! what hazards may I run } 
Shouldst thou forsake me — I'm undone. 



My Harriet, dissipate thy fears. 

And let a husband wipe thy tears; 

For ever join'd our fates combine. 

And I am yours, and you are mine. 

The fires the firmament that rend, 

On this devoted head descend. 

If e'er in thought from thee I rove. 

Or love thee less than now I love ! 

Altho' our fathers have been foes, 

From hatred stronger love arose; 

From adverse briars that threatening stood. 

And threw a horrour o'er the wood. 

Two lovely roses met on high. 

Transplanted to a better sky. 

And, grafted in on« stock, they grow. 

In union spring, in beauty blow. 

SAHlIET. 

My heart believes my love ; but still 

My |>oding mind presages ill : 

For luckless ever was our love. 

Dark as the sky that hung above. 

While %re embrac'd, we shook with fears. 

And with our kisses mingled tears : 

We met with murmurs and with sighs. 

And pafted still with watery eyes. 

An unforeseen itnd fatal hand 

Cross'd all the measures love had plann'd i 

Intrusion marr'd the tender hour, 

A demon started in the bower: 

If, like the past, the future run. 

And my dark day is but f^eguDQQQl^ 



Wlnt ckods may hang above my head I 
What tears may I have yet to shed ! 

Hi]«aY. 

do not woirad that gentle breast ; 
Nor siak, with fancied tils opprest ; 
For softness, tveeCDess, all, thou ait, 
.\id lore it virtue in thy heart. 
Tbft bosom ne'er shall heave again 
Bet totbe poet*s tender strain ; 
Asd oerer more these eyes overflow 
Bit for a hapless lovers woe. 

l^ on the ocean tempest- tost. 
At last «e gain the happy coast ; 
Aad safe recount upon the shore 
Oar safierings past and dangers o'er : 
PM aceoes ; the woes we wept erewhile 
Will iDske our future minutes smile : 
WWb sodden joy from sorrow springs, 
Bow the heart thrills thro' all iU strings ! 



^ b&oH castle springs to sight; 
Ye toven that gave me to the light ! 
Ohflk! O vales! where ( have play'd; 
Ye iQods, that wrapt me in yonr shade ! 

Ktats Vve often wandered o*er 1 
Okoks I shall heboid no more ! 

1 take t kx^, last, lingering, view ; 
Adiea [ my native land adieu ! 

Ertber, mother, brother dear ! 
Obums still uttered with a tear ! 
^'pQB whose knees Tve sat and smil'd, 
^^Twse grie& my blandishmeuts beguil'd ; 
^^^nm 1 forsake in sorrows old, 
^^aa I shall never more behold ! 
Faievefl, my friends, a long farewell, 
Tin tins shall toll the fonetal knelP. 



Tbjr friends, thy father's house resign; 
^friends, my ho*ise, my all is thine, 
^■ske, arise, my wedded wife, 
ToUgher thoughts and happier life ! 
f« thee the marriage feast is spread, 
^ tbee the virgins deck the bed ; 
7W itv of Venus shines above, 
^ sU thy future life is love. 
^ rise, the dear domestic hours ! 
TW Maj of love nniblds her flowers ; 
Y<inlb, beauty, pleasore spread the feast, 
Aarf friendship sits a constant guest ; 
^ cbeerfol peace the mom ascends, 
h vise and love the evening ends ; 
Atdittaaoe graadeor sbods a ray, 
Yftfild the evening of our day. 
^^^■■bial kwe has dearer names, 
^ft» ties, and sweeter claims, 
J^ ^et unwedded hearts can fed, 
^^ wedded hearts can e'er reveal ; 
J*«, as tbtt charities above, 
«e the sweet sympathies of love ; 
^cioser cords than those of life 
^Blc the husband tfi the wife. 

^ch erabs new-come from the ^es, 
^'■T* and Harriets round us rise ; 
^plapng wanton in the hall, . 
rgk acce«t sweet tteir paie&tf call ; 



A TALE. 



^S9 



To your fiur images I run ; 
You clasp the husband in the son ; 
O how the mother's heart will bound ! 
O how. the fieither's joy be crownM ! 



A TALE. 

Whbrb pastomi Tweed, renown'd in fODg, 

With rapid murmur flows ; 
In Caledonia's classic ground. 

The hall of Arthur rose. 
A braver Briton never arm'd 

To guard his native isle; 
A gentler friend did never make 

The social circle smile. 
Twice he arose, from rebel rage 

To save the British crown ; 
And in the field where heroes strovt 

He won him high renown. 
But to the plowsliare tum'dthe sword. 

When bloody war iid cease ; 
And in the arbour which he rear'd 

He raised the song of peace. 
An only daughter in his age 

SoUc'd a fother's care ; 
And all the country blest the name 

Of Emily the fair. 
The picture of her mother's youth, 

(Now sainted in the sky) ; 
She was the angel of his age. 

And apple of bis eye. 

Something unseen o'er all her form 

Did nameless grace impart ; 
A secret charm that won the way 

At once into the heart. 
Her eye the pure *»th«*real blue. 

Than that did fairer show, 
Whene'er she watch'd a father's look. 

Or wept a lover's wo? : 
For now the lover of her youth 

To Indian climes had roved. 
To conquer Fortune's cruel rage, 

And match the raaid he loved. 
Her voice, the gentle tone of love. 

The heart a captive stole ; 
The tender accent of her tongue 

W^cnt thrilling thro' the soul. 
The graces that for Nature fair 

Present us mimic Art, 
The false refinements that refine 

Away the human heart. 
She knew not ; in the simple robe 

Of elegance and ease, 
Complete she shone, and ever pleased. 

Without the thought to please. 

Instruct th' unplanted forest-crab 

To leave its genius wild ; 
Subdue the monster of the wood, 

And make the savage mild : 

But who would give the rose a hue 

Which Nature has not given ? 
But who would tame the nightmgale. 

Or bring the lark from Heaven^ | 

,gitizedbyLiOOgle 



«0 

The father, watching o'er hit tlM^ 
» ' The joy of fethera foatid ; 

And, blest hiftwelf, he stretcb'd his 

To bless the neighbours rotunk 
A patriarch in vale of peace, 

To all he gave the law ; 
The good he guarded in their rights 

And kept the bad to aWe. 
Lord of hii! -own i>aternal field, 

fie liberal dealt his store ; 
And c&il'd the stranger to his feas^ 

Tlie beggar to his door. 
But, ah ! what mortal knows the hour 

Of fate ? a hand unseen 
U|)on the curtain ever restn. 

And sudden shifts the scene* 
Arthur was surely for hiu friend. 

Who fled to foreign cliaies. 
And left him to the gri|)e of law. 

The victim of hi^ crimts. 

The Son, that, rising, yiw him lord 

Of hill and valley round. 
Beheld him, at his setting hour. 

Without one foot of ground. 
Forth from tl)c hall, no longer his. 

He is a pilgrim gone ; 
And walks a stranger o'er the fitldt 

He lately call'd his own. 
The bla>t of Winter whistled loud 

And shrill thro' the void hail ; 
And heavy on hU h«iary loeki 

Thfe shower of night did fall. 
ClaspM in his daughter** trembling band. 

He journey'd sad and slow j 
At times he stopt to look behind, 

A^d tears began to flow. 
Wearied, ami faint, ami cold, and wet. 

To bhelter he did hie ; 
** Beooath the covert of this rock. 

My daughter, let us die !*^ 
At midnight, in the weary waste 

In sorrow sat the pair ; ' 
She chEff'd his shivering hands, and wrung 

The water from his hair. 

Thfe sigh spontj^neous rose, the tear 

Invul notary flow'd ; 
No woi"d of lomfort could she speak. 

Nor would she weep aloud. 
** In yonder hall my fathers liv*d, 

la yonder hall they died ; 
Now in that church-yard*s aisle they sleep. 

Each by his spouse's side. 

** Oft have I made yon hall resound 
With social, sweet delight ; 

And marked not the morning hour. 
That stole upon the night 

** When there the wanderers of the dark, 

Keposing, ceased to roam ; 
And strangers, happy in the hall, 

Did tind themselves at home : 

" I little thought that, thus forlorn, 

In deserts 1 should bide, 
And have not where to lay the head. 

Amid the world ao wide l*^ 



LOGAN'S POEMS. 



A stranger, wandering tbrongh the irood^ 

Beheld the hapless pair ; 
Long did he look in silence sad. 

Then shriek'd as in doipair. 
He ran, and lowly at the feet 

Of bis late lord be Ml ; 
" Alas, my master, Iwve I Uvsd 

To bid your hoose feiewei ! 
" But I will never bid adieu 

To him I prized so high : 
As with my ma<;ter I have lived, 

I Ml with my master die. 

" I saw the snmmer-friend, who shar^4 

The banquet in your haH, 
Depart, nor cast one look behind 

On the forsaken wall. 
** I saw the daily, nightly guest 

The changing scene forsake ; 
Nor drop a tear, nor turn his ste^)* ^ 

The long farewel to take : 
** Then to the service of my lord 

I vowM a throbbing h«9ut; 
And in the clianfes of yoar life 

To bear an hmntile part. 
" Forgive the fond, offlcfous zeal ' 

Of one that loves his lord ! 
The new possessor of your field 

A suppiia it 1 implored. 
" I tuld the treactery of your friend. 

The story of your woe, 
And sou^icht his favour, when I saw 

His tears begin to flow. 
" I ask'd the hamlet of the kill. 

The lone, sequestered seat. 
Your chosen haunt and fiMrourite bow^ 

To be your last retreat. ^ 

" I oiTcr'd what was all your own 

The gold 1 had in store j 
Low at his feet I fell, and w^pt 

That I conld gi\'e no more, 
• Your gold is yonts, the gen'rous youth 

With geutle accent said ; 
Your master's be that little field. 

And cheeiful be his shed ! 

" Nov Heaven has heard my prayer ; I Ve wished 

1 could In part repay 
The fivours your extended hand " 

Bestowed from day to day. 
" I yet may see a garland green 

Upon the hoary head ; 
Yet see iny maeter blest, before 

1 dwell among the dead I" 
In silence Arthur look'd to Heaven, 

And clasp'd his Edwin^s hand ; 
Tlie eyes of Emily in tears 

Express'd aifTection bland. 

From opening Heaven the Moon appeared ; ^ 

Fair was the face of night ; ^ 

Bright in their beauty shone the stars ; 

The air was flowing light. 
Arthur resum'd the pilgrim's staff; 

They held their lonely way 
Dim thro' the forest's darksome bourne. 

Till near the dawning day. 



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Then a long line of pxMy lightti 

That qatverM to and fro, 
Reveai'fl tbetr lone retreat, aod cloted 

The ptisrimage of woe. 
He eoter'd, solemn, slow, and md, 
I Tbe destined heroMtiige*, 

i A little and a lonely but, 

Tu cover hapless age. 
He da^M his daucrhter m hii annf^ 

Aod kuB*d a fbtthig tear; 
*' 1 bare my all, ye gracious powtra! 

1 hare my daughter here !*» 
A lober banquet to prepare, 

Emilia cheerful goes ; 
7^ h^gc^ blazed, the window glaoe'A, 

The heart of age aroK. 
" I would not be that guilty man, 

With all his golden store ; 
Kor change my lot with any wretch, 

That counts hb thousands o'er. 
•* Now here at last we are at home. 

We can no lower fill I ; 
Um m the cottnge, peace can dwell. 

As in tbe lordly hall. 
•* Tbe wants of Native are but few j 

Her banquet soon b spread : 
The tenant of tbe vale of tears 

Bequires but daily bread. 

* The fi>od that grows id every field 

Will life and health prolong ; 
Aad water from the j^iring suffi/^ 

To quench tbe thirsty tongue. 
*" Bat aU tbe Indies, with their wealthy 

And earth, and air, and seas. 
Win never quench the sickly thirst. 

And cnvrog of disease. 
" My hnmble garden to my band 

Gootentment^s feast will yield | 
Aad b the seasi^, harvest white 

Wdlbadmy little field. 
** Vke Nature's simple children, her% 

With Nature's self we 'U live. 
Aad of tbe little that is left. 

Have something still to ^vOi 

" The sad vicMitodes of life 
Long have I leani'd to bear; 

^ oh I my daughter, thou art ne« 
To sorrow and to oare ! 

* Bow shall that fine and flowery fbrm. 

In silken folds cimfined, 
Tkt scarcely £seed tbe summ«>a gali% 
Eodnre the wintery wind ! 

* ih ! bow wih thon sustain a sky 

With angry tempest red ! 
5t» wilt thoQ bear the bitter storm 
That*s hangii^ o'er thy bead ! 

* Whste'er thy justice dooms, O Odd ! 

I take with temper mild ; 
Brtoh! repay it tboosand-foM 

la blessings on my child !** 
" Weep not lor roc, thou lather fondl'^ 

The virgin soft did say ; 
** Ooohf I cootribnte to thy peace, 

O. IwonJdbtotheday! 



" The. Parent wtio provides tnr aft 

For us vhW noMT pn>vi(le ; 
These handst have learnM the gayer arts 

Of elegance aud pnde : 

** What once amused a ^-acant hour, 

Shall naw tbe day engage ; 
And vanity shall spread tbe board 

Of poverty and age, 
5* At eventldft, bow blithe we'll meet. 

And, while the fa^TRots blaze, 
Recount the trifles of the time. 

And drt^am of better d;;ys! 
'< I'll read the tragic tales of old. 

To Koothe a father's woes ; 
ril lay the pillow for thy bead, 

And sing thee to repose." 

The fether wept " Thy wond*rous band* 

Almighty,-! adore ! 
I had not known how blest I was. 

Had I not been so poor ! 
'' Now blest be God for what b reft 1 

And blest for what is given I 
Thou art an angel, O my child ! 

With thee I dwell in Heavcir!«» 
Then, in the garb of ancient times, 

They trod the pastoral plain : 
But who descriiies a summer's day. 

Or paints the halcyon main^ 
One day, a wanderer m tbe wood 

Tbe lom>iy threshold prest; 
'IVas then that Arthur's humble rool 

Had first received a guest 
The stranger told his tender tales 

" I come from foreign clitnes ; 
Prom countries red with Indian bloody 

And stainM with Christian crimes^ 

" O may Britannia never hear 

What these sad eyes have seen ( 
May an eternal veil be drawn 

That world and tbb between ! 
" No frantic avarice fired my soul, 

And Heaven my wishes crown'd j 
For soon a fortune to my mind , 

With innocence 1 found. 
" From exile sad, returning home, 

I kiss'd the sacred earth ; 
And flew to find my native woods 

And walls that gave me birth. 
" To church on Sunday fond I went. 

In hopes to mark, unseen, 
All my old friends, assembled round 

The circle of the green. 
" Alas, the change that time had made f 

My ancient friends were gone ; 
Another race possess'd the walls, 

And I was left alone ! 

*' A stranger among strangers, long 

I look'd from pew to pew ; 
But not the fiice of one old friend 

Rose imaged to my vtbw. 

" The horrid plough had razed the greevs 
Where we bavo often play'd ; 

The axe had fell'd tbe hawthorn "tree^ 
The school-boy's sunuo^ shade. 



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tXIGAN'S POEMS. 



The wrath of NattiW tliMtǤ oor bwwwif 
And prom ".8. dfrttits, aiid cherWi*d A«»^M% 

f h'- hopes of life m cnibryo Mvoepa; 
Pale o'er the ru»ufc <rf hw p^B"** 
And desolate b« for© hi* t<i»«i 
In sil^'iice b3<l the mourner wall» and weepa ! 
Relentless ptiwer ! wboie feted stroke 

OVr wretched man prevails ? 
Ha ! love's eternal chaha is broke, 

And frieodshiu's covenant fails 
Upbraiding forms ! a moment's ease— 
O nicmurv ! bow (ball i appease 

Tlic bleeding: shade, the uidatd ghost t 
What charm can bmd the gnshing eye? 
What votee console th' incessant sigh, 
And everlasting longings for. the lost ^ 
Yet not unwelcome waves the wood, 

Tliat hides me in \U gloom, 
While lo4 in melancholy mood 

1 mtise u{>on the tomb. 
Their chet^uefd leaves the branches shed ; 
Wbirlinf? in eddie» o'er ray head, 

The sadly J^igh, that Winter's near : 
The warning voice I hear behind, 
That shakes the wool without a wind. 
And solemn sounds tbedeathbdl of the year. 
Nor will I court Lethean 8t#eams, 

The sorrow ing senwi to steep ; 
Nor drink »blivion of the themes 

On which I love to weep. 
Belated oft by fabled rill. 
While Bightly o^er the hallowed bill 

Aenar music seems to moum ; 
I'll listen Autumn's closing strain ; 
Then woo the walks of youth again, 
And pour nay sorrows o'er th* untimely urn ! 



HYMNS, 



I. 
THE PRAYER OF JACOB. 

O GOO of Abraham ! by whose IiaAd 

Thy people still are fed 
Who, thro' this weary pilfq-image. 

Hast all our fathers led ! 
Our vows, our prayers, we now present 

Before thy throne of graee j 
God of our facers, be th« <Mi4 

Of their succeeding raca 
Thro* each perplexing path of Iifc 

Our wandering footsteps guidt. 
Give us by day our daily bread, 

And raiment fit provide. 
O spread thy covering winjfs around. 

Tilt all our wanderings cease. 
And at our fathers* lov'd abode 

Our feet arrive in peace. 
Now with the humble voioc of prayer 

Thy mercy we implore ; 
Then with the gratefnl' voice of praise 

Thy goodness we'll adore* 



11. 



THE COMPLAINT Of KATURp* 

" Few are thy days and Coll of woe, 

O mnsi of woman born ! 
Thy doom is written, dust thou art. 

And Shalt to dunt return. 
*• Determined are. the days that fly 

Successive o'er thy head ; 
The numl>er'd hour is on the wing,. 
That lays thee with the de«d. 
" Alas ! the little day of life 
Is shoiler than a spao^ 
Yet black with thousand bidden ills 

To miserable man. 
" Gay is thy morning; flattering hop* 

Thy spripht'y step attends ; 
But soon the tempest howls liehind. 

And the dark night descends. 
" Before its splendid hour the cloudy 

Comes o'er the beam of light ; 
A pils^rim in a weary lind, 

Man tarries but a night. 
" Behold ! sad emblem (>f thy state. 
The flowers that paint ibc field ; 
Or trees, that crown the moiwUin's brow^ 

And bonglw and l>lo8fiom& yield. 
«« When chill the blast of Winter blows. 

Away the Summer flics, 
The fluwerN rtsiun their sunny robes. 

And all their beanty dies, 
" Nipt by the year, the forest fodet ; 

And', shaking to the wind. 
The leaves toss to and fro, and streak 

The wilderness beh ud. 
" The Winter past, reviving flowers 

Anew shall pant the plain ; 
The wootls shall hear the voice of Springs 

And flouri>b green again : 
" But man departs this ( arthly scene. 

Ah ! never to return ! 
No second Spring shall <i'er revive 

The ashes of the uni. 
" Th' inexorable doors of Death 

What hand can e'er unfold ? 
Who from the cearments of the tomb 
' Can raii»e ^he human mould ? 
" The michty flood that roll*; along 

Its tom*nts to the main. 
The waters lost can ne'er recal 

From that abyss again* 
" TTie days, the years, the ages, dark 

Descending down to night. 
Can never, never be redeemed 
Back to the gates of light 
** So man departs the living scene. 

To night's perpetnai gloom j 
The voice of morning ne*er shall break 

The slumbers of the tomb. 
" Where are our fathers ? whither f 

The mighty men of old ? 

The patriarchs, prophets, priooes, 1 

Iq sacred books eoroird ? 



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HYMNS. 



6i 



' Qsae to die mting place of nun, 

T%e everlMting home, 
Whtre ages past have gone before, 

Wboe (uture ages come." 
Thai Natnre povr'd the wail of woe, 

And org *d her earnest cry ; 
Her Yoke in agooy extreme 

Aaceoded to the sky. 

Tk* Almighty beard : theo from his throne ^ 

la majesty be rose ; 
Aad firom the Heaven, that open'd wide, 

Hii voice in mercy flows. 

" Wheo iBortal man resigns his breath. 

And &lla a clod of clay, 
IW sool imnortal wings its flight. 

To never setting i^y. 

" Prepar'd of old for wicked niea 

The bed of torment lies ; 
IVejost shall enter into bliss 

ImoMrtal in the skies.*' 



JIL 
TRUST IN PROVIDENCE. 

Auncarr Father uf mankind. 

On tliee my hopes remain ; 
lad wbesi the day of tronble comes, 

I shall not trust in vain. 
^Voa ait ovr kind preserver, f rmb 

The cradle to the tomb ; 
lad I was cast upon thy care. 

Even from my mother's womb, 
b eariy yeais tbon wast my guide. 

And of my yooih the friend : 
And as my days began with thee. 

With thee my days shall end* 
I kaov the power in wliom I tnisl. 

The arm on which I !ean ; 
Be will my Saviour ever be. 

Who has my Saviour beerk 
la fenner timet, when trouble came. 

Thou didst not stand afar ; 
Vor £dst thou prow an absent friend 

Amid the din of war. 
MyOod, who caoaedst me to hopa. 

When life began to beat, 
Aai when a stranger in the world. 

Didst goioe my wandering feet ; 
Tksa wib not cast me aC when age 

Aad evil days descend ; 
Thoa wilt not leave me in d«>spair. 

To monna my latter end. 
IWefore in fife I'll tmst to thee. 

In death t will adore ; 
Aad after death will sing thy praise, 

When time shall be no more. 



I 



IV. 

ffEAVBNLY WISDOV. 

lAtrr b the mm wbo bean 
lastraction^ warntDg voice, 
Aid wha c ele st ia l Wiadoqa w^n 
fib early, only cboic** 
VafcXTllI, 



For she has treasures "greater ftir 

Than east or west uufok). 
And her reward is more secure 

Than is the gain of gold. 
In her right hand she holds to view 

A length of happy years ; 
And in her left, the prize of fame 

And honour bright appears. 
She guides the young, with innocence^ 

In pleasure's path to tread, 
A crown of glory she bestows 

Upon the hoary head. 
According as her labours rise. 

So her rewards increase. 
Her ways are ways of pleasantnesf. 

And all her paths are peace. 



BeaotD! the monntain of the Lord 

In latter days shall rise, 
Above the mountains and the hills. 

And draw the wondering eyes. 
To this the joyful nations round, 

All tribes and tongues, shall flosr^ 
" Up to the hill of (.'od," they'll say, 

" And to his house we'll go." 
The beam that shim^ on Zion bill 

Shall lighten every land ; 
The King who reigns in Zion tower* 

Shall all the world command. 
No strife shall vex Messiah's reign. 

Or mar the peaceful years, 
To p'mighshares soon they boat their 

To pruning-hooks their spears. 
No longer hosts en<xnntering hosts. 

Their milKons slain dep'ore^ 
They hang the trumjict in the hail, 

And study war no more. 
Come then — O come from every land^ 

To worship at his ^brine ; 
And, walking in the light of God, 

With holy beauties shine. 



VL 

BaaoLt)! th' Ambassador divine. 

Descending from above. 
To publish to mankind th« laW 

Of everlasting love ! 
On biro, in rich effosion pourM, 

The heavenly dew descends ; 
And truth divine he shall reveal 

To Earth's remotest ends. ' 
No trumpet-sound, at his approach. 

Shall strike the wondering ears ^ 
But still and gentle breathe the voicf 

In which the Ood appears. 
By his kind hand the shaken reed 

Shall raise its falling frame ; 
The dying embers ihall revive. 

And kindle to a 0ame. 

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The onward progress of b»8 zeal 

Shall never know dccUne, 
Till foreign lands and distant isles 

Receive the law divine. 
He who spread forth the arch of Heaven, 

And bade the planets roll. 
Who laid the basis of the Earth. 

And formM the human soul, — 
Thus nith the Lord, " Thee hare I sent, 

A prophet from the sky, 
Wide o'er the nations to proclaim 

The message from on high. 
♦• "Before thy face the shades of death 

Shall take to sudden tight j 
The people who in darkness dwell 

Shall hail fi glorious light ; 
•* The gates of brass shall 'sunder burst, 

. The iron fetters fall ; 
The promised jubilee of Heaven 

Appointed rise o*er all. 

" And lo ! presag:og thy approach. 
The heathen temples shake. 

And trcmbliug in forsaken fanes. 
The fabHed idbls quake. 

'* I am Jehovah : I am One r 

My name sh^ll now be known ; 

Ho idol shall nsorp my praise, 
Nbf mount into my throne."' 

Lo, former scenes, predicted once, 

Coospictious rise to view ; 
And future scenes, predicted now, 

Shan be accomplish'd too. 

Now sing a new song to the Lord ! 

Let Earth hia praise resound ; 
Te who upon the ocean dwell. 

And fill the isles around* 

O city of the Lord ! begin 

The universal song ; . 

And let the scattered villager 

The joyful notes prolong. 
Let Kedar*? wilderness afar 

Lift up the lonely voice ; 
And let the tenants of the rock 

With accent rude rejoice. 
O from the streams of distant land* 

Unto Jehovah sing ! 
And joyful from the mountains tops 

Shout to the Lord the King ! 
Let all combtnM with one accord 

Jehovah's glories raise, 
' Tin in remotest bounds of Earth 

The nations sound his praise. 



LOGAN'S POEMS. 



vn. 

MfssiAH ! at thy glad approach 

Tl)e howling wilds are still ; 
Thy praises fill the lonely waste, 

And breathe from every hill. 
The hidden fountains, at thy call. 

Their sacred stores unlock j 
Loud in the desert, sudden streaJXM 

Burst living from the rock. 



The inccn^se of the spring ascend* 

Upon the morning ^le : 
Red o'er the hill the rases bloom, 

'ITie lilies in the vale. 
ItenewM, the Earth a robe of light, 

A robe c>f beauty wears j 
And in new Heavens a brighter Sun 

Leads on the promisM years. 
The kiDgdom of Messiah come 

Appointed times disclose ; 
And fairer in Emmanuei's land 

The new creation glows. 
Let Israel to the Prince of Peac« 

The loud ha«;annali sing ! 
With hallelujahs and with hymns, 

O Zion, hail thy King ! 



VIII. 

Whe?« Jesus by the Virgin brought. 

So runs the lawof Heaven, 
Was oflfer'd holjr to the Lord, 

And at the altar given ; 
Simeon the just and the devout. 

Who, frequent in the fane. 
Had for the Saviour waited long. 

But waited ftill in vain. 
Came, Heaveo-directed, at the hour 

When Mary bekl her sou ; 
He stretched forth his aged arms, 
' While tears of gladness vun ; 

With holy joy upon his face 

The good old father smiPd, 
AVhile fbndly in his witber'd arms 

He clasp'd the promis'd child. 
And then he lifted op to Heaven 

An earnest asking eye ; 
My joy is full, my hour is come, 

Lord» let thy servant die. 
At last my arms embrace my Lord, 

Now let their rigour cease ; 
At last my eyes my Saviour see. 

Now let tbem close in peace.* 
The star and glory of the land 

Hath now bc^;mi to shine; 
The morning that shall gild the globe 

Breaks on these eyes of mine 1 



IX. 

VVhcri high the heavenly temple stands, 
Tlie house of God not made with bands, 
A great High Priest our nature wears. 
The Patron of mankind appears. 
He who for men in mergy stood. 
And pour'd on Earth his precious blood. 
Pursues ill Heaven his plan of grace. 
The guardian God of humaaraoe. 
Tho' now ascended up on high. 
He bends on Earth a brother's eye, 
Partaker of the human name. 
He knows the frailty of our frame. 



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AN ECLOGUE. 



Ottr fellow-tnlferer yet retains 
A feIlov>fee1iog of our paJns ; 
And still remembers in the skies 
H» tears, aud agonies, and cries. 
In every pan?? that rends the heart, 
The Man of Sorrows bad a part ! 
He sympathises io oor grief, 
And to the sufferer sends relief. 
TTith bcJdoess, therefore, at the throng 
l«t Qs make all our sorrows known, 
And ask the aids of heavenly power. 
To help OS in the eril boar. 



67 



POEMS 

ATTRIBUTED TO 

LOGAN. 

DJMOS, MBSALCAS, AND MEUBOEUS: 
AN ECLOGUE. 

DAMOW. 

Miti> fron the show'r, the morning's rosy light 

Tolblds the beauteous season to the sight : 

The landacape rises verdant on the view ; 

Hie tittle hills oplift their heads in dew; 

The 94iiiny stream rejoices in the vale ; 

The woods with songs approaching summer hail : 

The boy comes forth among the flow'rs to play: ' 

ffis fiur hair glitters in the yellow ray.— 

aepeida, h^ the song ! while, o'er the mead, 

Yov flocks at wUI oo dewy pastures feed. 

^Behold £ur Nature, and begin the song ! 

The soQgs of Nature to the swain belang. 

'Who equals Cona's bard in sylvan strains. 

To him his harp an equal prize remains : 

ffii harp, which sonnds on all its sacred strings 

TW kyres of hooters, and the wars of kings. 

MEXALCAS. 

Kbw fleecy docMk m clearer skies are seen ; 
1W air is graial, and the earth is green; 
O'rr hill and dale the flow'rs spontaneous spring ; 
Aid bb^btrds noging now invite to sing. 

MZLIBOEVS. 

Kow aaky ihowtrs rejoice the springhig grain ; 
jJ^Hipeiiing pea-blooms porple all the plain j 
ne hei%es blosHMn white on every hand ; 
Ab«dy harvett seems to clothe the land. 

MBVALCAS. 

White o^er the hill my snowy sheep appear, 
och with ber lamb; their shepherd's name they bear. 
I bve tD lead them whem the daisies spring, 
^ M the sonny hill to sit and sing. 

MBLIBOIVS. 

My fldis are green with clover and with corn; 
Ky flocks the hillj, and herds the vales, adorn. 
Itnch the alieam, I teach thfe vocal shore, 
^ ««od^ to echo that " I want no morfc " 



MtMAtCAl, 

To me the bees their annual nectar vield ; 
Peace cheers my hut, and plenty clothes my field. 
All °° * ' 5'^<^ to ocean^s wind 
Ail care away ;— a monarch m my mind. 

MBLIBOEUS. 

My mind is cheerful as the linnet's lays ; 
Heaven daily hears a sliephenl^s simple praise. 
What time I shear my flock, I send a fleece 
To aged Mopsa, and her orphan niece. 

MENALCAS. 

Lavinia, come I here primroses opspriog: 
Here choirs of linnets, here yourself may smg ; 
Here meadows worthy of th v foot appear : 
O come, Lavinia ! let us wander here > 

MELIBOEUS. 

Rosclla, come ! here flow»rs the heath adorn t 
Here ruddy roses open on the thorn ; 
Here willows by the brook a shadow give : 
O here, Rosella ! let us love to live ! 

MBNALCAS. 

Lavinia's fairer than the flow'n of May 
Or autumn apples, ruddy in the ray : 
For her my flow'rs are in a gariand wove ; 
And all my apples ripen for my love. 

MBLIBOEUS. 

Prince of the wood, the oak majestic tow»fi ; 
The lily of the vale is queen of flow'rs • 
Above the maids Rosella's charms prexail. 
As oaks in woods, and lilies in the vale ! 

MENALCAS. 

Resound, ye rocks ! ye little hills rejoice ' 
Assenting woods, to Heav'n uplift your voice » 
Let Spring and Summer enter band in hand I 
Lavinia comes ! the glory of our land ! 

liEMBOEUS. 

Whene'er my love appears upon the plain. 
To her the wond'ring sbephenis tune the strain : 

Who comes in beauty like the vernal mom. 
When yellow robes of light all Heav'n and Eaith 
adotn." 

MENAfCAf. 

Rosella's mme, by all the pow're above ' 
Each star in Heav'n is witness to our love. 
Among the lilies she abides all day j 
Herself as lovely, and as sweot as they. 

MELIBOEUS. 

By Tweed Lavinia feeds her fleecy care 
And in the sunshine combs her yellow hair 
Be t^ne the peace of Heav'n, unknown tokiiigs f 
And o er thee angeli spread their guaixlian wings ! 

MENALCAS. 

I follow'd Nature, and was fond of praise ; 
Thnce noble Varo has approv'd my lays : 
If he approves, superior to my peers, 
I jom th' immortal choir, and sing to other years. 

MELIBOEUS. 

My mistress Is my muse : the banks of Tyue 
RMOund with Nature's music, and with mine. 

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6s 



LOGAN'S POEMS. 



IMen the fair, <hc licatily of ofir green, 

I'o mc UiljudgM the prize, when cbutea qtieeii. 



Now cea«e your songs : the flocks to shelter fly, 
And the high Sun has gaiu'd the middle iky. 
To both alike the poet's bays l>ek>og ; 
Chiefs of the choir, and niasters of the son?. 
Tims let your pipes contend, with rival strife, 
To sine tUe praises of the pastVal life: 
Sin? Niture's scenes, with Nature's beauties fir'd ; 
Whprc poets drf ani'd, where proohets lay inspired. 
F.Vfii Caledonian queens have trod the meads. 
And scfpterM kings assumM the sbepherdn weeds: 
Th' angelic chnir«, that guarrl the throne «if (jod, 
J^ave snt with siieph^nls on the humh'e mxI. 
With us, renew'd, the golden times remain. 
And loDg^ost innocence is found agaiik 



PASTORAL SOXQ. 

Tf^ TUB" TUNK OP THE TEI.LOW-HAia^D LADDtl. 

In May when the ;r>*ans appear on the green. 
And flow*rs in the field and the forest are seen ; 
Where lilies bloom M bunny, and hawthorns up- 

spmng. 
Tlie ycllow-hairM laddie oft whistled and sung. 

But neither the shades, nor the tweets of the flow'rt, 
Northeblackbirds that warbled on hloss miingbow'rs, 
Cotdd pleasure hit eye, or bis ear entertain ; 
For love .was his pleasure, and love was his pain. 

The shepherd thussung ; while his flocks all around 
Dmw nearer and nearer, and sigh'd to the sound : 
Aronnd, as in chains, lay the beasts of the wood. 
With pity disarmed, with music sub(lu*<L 

Young Jessy is fair as the springes early flowV, 
And Mary sings sweet at the bird in the bowV : 
But Peggy is fkirer and sweeter than they ; 
With looks like the morning, with bmiles like the day. 

Tn the flowVof her youth, in the bloom of eighteen; 
Of virtue the goddess, of beauty the queen : 
One hour in her presence an tra excels 
Aniid courts, where ambition with misery dwells. 

Fair to the sliepherd tba new-springing flow'rs, 
When May and wl^en morning lead on the gay bonrs: 
But Pe^gy is brighter and fairer than they ; 
She's fair as the morning, and lovely as May, 

Sweet to the shepherd the wild woodland sound. 
When larks sing above him and lambs bleat around : 
But Peggy far sweeter can speak and can sing, 
llian the notes of tlie warblers that welcome the 
spring. 

When iu beauty she moves by the hrook of the 

plain, [main : 

You would call her a Venus new sprung from the 

When she sings, and the woods with their echoes 

reply. 
You would think that ad angel was warbling on high. 

Ye pow'rs that preskle over mortal estate ! 
W^bosc nod ruleth nature, whose pleasure is faie ! i 
O grant me, O grant me the Heav'n of her charms ! 
May I live in ber jpresenM, and dis in her mraM ! 



ODE: 



TO A FOUNTAIV. 

O pouKTAT!! of tho wood ! whose glassy watt, 
Slow-swelling fr .m the rock of years. 
Holds to Hcav'n a mirror blue. 
And bright as .Anna's eye. 
With whom Pve sported on the margin green : 
My hand with leaves, with lilies white. 
Gaily dcckM her golden hair. 
Young Naiad of the vale. 
Fount of my native wood ! thy mumnrs greet 
My car, like |>oct's heav*nly strain : 
Fancy pictures in a dream 
'l*he golden days of youth. 
O state of innoc«^ncc I O Paradise ! 
In H' pes gay garden, Fancv viewi 
Golden blossoms, golden fruits. 
And Eden ever green* 
Where now, ye dear compankms of my youth ! 
Ye brothers of my bosoitn ! where 
Do ye tread the walks of life. 
Wide scaUei;*d o'er the world ? 
Tlius winged larks forsake their native nes^ 
The merry minstrels of the morn : 
New to Heav'n they mount away, 
And meet again no more. 
All thinps decay ; — ^the forest like the leaf; 
Great kingdoms fall ; the peopled globe, 
Planet-btruck, shall pass away ; 
Ueav'ns with their hosts expire : 

But Hope's fitir visions, and the beams of joy. 
Shall cbeer my bosom : I will sing 
Nature's beauty, Nature's birth. 
And heroes, on the lyre. 
Ye Naiads ! blue-ey'd sisters of the wood ! 
Who by old oak, or story *d stream. 
Nightly tread your mystic maze. 
And charm the waticPring Moon, 
Beheld by poet's eye ; inspire my dreama 
With visions, like the landscapes fair 
Of Heav'n 's bliss, to dying saints 
By gi • rdian angels drawn. 
Pmmt of the forest ! in thy poet's Inyn 
Thy waves shall flow : this wreath of flow'n^ 
Gather'd by Anna's hand, 
I ask to bind my brow. 



DAmSH ODB. 



Tbe great, the glorious deed b done t 
The foe is fled ! the field is woe ! 
Prepare the feast ; the heroes call : 
Let joy, let triumph fill the hall ! 

The raven daps his sabla wtags ; 
The bard his chosen timbrel brings; 
Six virgins round, a select choir, 
Sing tp the music of bis lyre. 

With mighty ale the goblet croam ; 
With mighty ale ywxx sorrows drown : 
To day, to mirth and joy we yidd ; 
To morrow, Cmo the Moody Md. 



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DANISH ODE. . . . ANACREONTIC TO A WASP. 



From daiifer>8 front , at b«ttle^ eve, 
wwet comes the Innquet to tbe brave : 
Joy shioes with genial beam on all. 
The joy that dvelU in Odju's hall. 

The song biirsU living from the lyie, 
lAe ilreams that Gruardian g^hosts insiiire; 
When mimic shrieks the heroes hear, 
And whii I the ▼isiunary spear, 

Mu>ic *s the med'cine of the mind ; 
The cloud of caiv g.ve to tbe wind : 
Be erVy brow with~sarlaiids boond ; - 
And let the cup of joy go round. 

Tbe cloud (*oroes o*er the beam of light ; 
We're guests that tarry hut a night ; 
In the dark bi^nv*, together pre^'d, 
Tbe princes ami the people rest 

Send round the shell, the feast prolong, 
And send away the night in song : 
Be blest below, as tiitjse above 
With Odin's and the friends they lova. 



69 



BANISH ODE, 



h deeds of arms, our fetliers rwe, 
Illustrious in their ofispring^s eyes .• 
They fearless nishM thro' ooeanN str.rmi, 
And dar'd grim Death hi all its forms : 
Each ymith assum'd the sword and shield. 
And grew a hero in the fit Id. 

Shall we degenerate frt^m our race, 
Inglorious in U>e moiintam chase ? 
Arm, arm in fallen Hubba's right; 
Place your forefathers in your sight; 
To fame, to glory, fight your way. 
And teach the nations to obey. 

As^mne the oars, unbrnd the sails : 
S«»d, CHin ! send propitious gales. 
At Loda'» stone, we will adore 
Tljy name with song*, upon the shore ; 
And, full of thee, undaunted dare 
The foe, and dart the bolts of war. 

No feast of shells, qo dance by night. 
Are glorious OdinV dear delight: 
He, king of men, his armies led 
Where heroes strove, where battles bledj 
Now reigns above tlic morning star, 
Tbe god of tbooder and of war. 

KessM who in battle bravely fall ! 
They mount on wings to Odin*s hall ! 
TomuJc's sound, in cups of gold. 
They drink new wine with chiefs of old; 
Tbe song of bards records their name. 
And future times shall speak their fame. 

Haric! Odin thonders ! haste on boaid ; 
niustrioos Canute ! give the word. 
On wings of wind we pass the seas, 
To cocH)ner realms, if pdin please : 
With Odin's spirit rn onr soul. 
We'll gain the globe fioBi pole to pole. 



AKJCREOWTIC: 



TO A WASP. 



The followm? is a Indicrous im'tation of the n^al 
Anaenemitics; the spirit of composing ^hich 
was ra^in*:, a few ynars ago, among all the 
sweet singers of Great Britain. . 

Winced wand rer- of the sky! 
Inhabitant of Heaven high ! 
Oreidful with thy dra?on-tail, 
Hydra-hfad, an(i coat of mail f 
Why dost thon my peace molest ? 
Why dost rhou dihturb my rest ? — 
When in May the meads are seen, 
Sweet euauiel ! white and irre«»u j 
And the j?arflcns, and the bow*rs. 
And the forests, and the H(m''rs, 
l>on their robes of curious dye ; 
Fine confusion to the eye ! 
Did 1— chase thee m thy flight ? 
Did I— puf thee in a friirht ? 
Did 1 — $|v»il thy treasure Ind ? 
Never-never — never — did. 
Knvions nothing ! pray beware ; 
Tempt mine atjger if you dare. 
Trust not in thy stren';^h of wing; 
Trust not in thy length of sting. 
Henv'n nor Earth shall thee defend ; 
f thy buz/.;i)g s(K)n wlfl end. 
Take my counsel while you may; 
I)«vil take you If you stay. 

Wilt— thon— dare— my— race— to^wonnd ? 

Thus, I ft'll ihee to the ground. 
Down aaioni,'st the dend men, now. 
Thou shalt ftupet thou ere wast thou.— 
Anaereontic banls beneath. 
Thus shall «ail thee after death. 

CHORUS OF ELY8IAN BARpS. 

" A W4SP for a wonder. 

To paiaritsc under 

Descends ! s.?e, h** wanders 

By Sfvx's ujeanders ! 

B.-hoII. how he <^lo\vs 

Auii«!>t iinodop*; M snows I 
He SHeats, m a trice. 
In the regions of ice I 
Ix) I he cools, by God*s tre. 
Amidst brimstone and fire ! 
He g<K's to our king, 
An<l he shows hnn his sting. 
(Cio^id PIulo hives satire, 
A'j wouitn love attin? j) 
Our kiie^ sets him fre. , 

Like our faijrd luiridc.\ 

Thus a wasp could p^ \ail 
O'er the Devil and IJel!, 
A conouest botli hard and laliorious ! 
Tho' Hell had fast bo«ind him, 
And the Devil did confound him. 
Yet his sting and bis wing were victorious !" i 

1 This chonis only has been attribated to Logan. 



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70 



LOGAN'S POEMS. 



THE EPISODE OF LEVINA, 



FROM BRl'CE 8 POEM OP LOCHLBT£I(. 



Low by the lake, as yet without a name. 

Fair bosom'd in the bottom of the vale. 

Arose a cottage, green with ancient turf, 

Half hid in hoarj' trees, and from the north 

FencM by a wood, but open to the Sun. 

Here dwelt a peasant, revVend with the locks 

Of age J yet youth was ruddy on his cheek : 

His form his only care : his sole.delight. 

To tend his daughter, beautiful and young ; 

To watch her paths ; to fill her lap with fiow'rs ; 

To see her spread into the bloom of years, 

The perfect picture of her roother^s youth. 

His age'a hope, the apple of his eye, 

BeloTM of Heaven, his fair Levina grew 

)n youth and grace the Naiad of the vale. 

Fresh as the flow'r amid the sunny show'rs 

Of May, and blither than the bird of dawn, 

Both roses* b!oom gave beauty to her cheek. 

Soft tempered with a smile. The light of Heav^o, 

And innocence, illum'd her virgin- eye, 

Luoid and lovely as the morning star. 

Her breast was fisiirer than the vernal bloom 

Of valley -lily, oj^^ning in a showV ; — 

Fair as Uie mom, and beautiful as May, 

The glory of the year, when first she comes 

Array 'd, all beauteous, with tlie robes of Heav'n ; 

And, breathing summer breezes, from her locks 

Shakes genial dews, and from her lap the flowers. — 

Thus beautiful she lod(*d ; yet something more. 

And better far than beauty, in her looks 

Appeared : the maiden blush of modesty ; 

Tlie smile of cheerfulness, and sweet content ; 

Health's freshest rose, the sunshine of the soul : 

Each heightening each, effus'd o'er all her form 

A nameless grace, the beauty of the mind. 

Thus finisbM fair above her peers, she drew 
The eyes of all the village, and inflamed 
The rival shepherds of the neighboring dale. 
Who laid the spoils of summer at her feet. 
And made the woods enamoured of her name. 
But pure as buds before they blow, and still 
A virgin in her heart, she knew not love : 
But all alone, amid her garden fair. 
From mom to noon, from noon to dewy eve. 
She spent her days : her pleasing task to tend 
The flowers ; to lave them from the water-spring : 
To ope the buds with her enamoured breath ; 
Hank the gay tribes, and rear them in the sun. — 
In youth, the index of maturer years, 
Lett by her school-companions at their play. 
She'd oflen Tvander in the wood, or roam 
The wilderness, in quest of curious flow*r. 
Or ii6st of bird unknown, till eve approach'd. 
And hcmmM her in the shade. To obvious swain. 
Or woodman chanting in the greenwood glln, 
She'd bring the bi'auteous spoils, and^ask their names. 
Thus ply'd assiduous her delightful task. 
Day after day, till ev'ry herb she nam*d 
l^at paints the robe of Spring, and knew the voice 
Of ev'ry warbler in the vernal wood. 

Her garden stretch'd along the river side, 
High tip a sunny bank : on either side, 
A hedge forbade the vagrant foot; above. 
An ancient forest screen'd the green recess. 
Traosplanted here, by ber creative baod. 



Fach herb of Nature, full of fragrant sweett. 

That scente the breath of Summer; ev'ry flow'r 

Pride of the plain, that blooms on festal days 

In shepherd's garland, and adorns the year. 

In beauteous clusters flourish'd : Nature's work. 

And order, finish'd by the hand of Art. 

Here gowans, natives of the village green. 

To daisies grew. Tlie lilies of the field 

Put on the robe they neither sew'd nor spun. 

Sweet-smelling shrabs and cheerful spmuliiig trees, 

Uufrequent scattered, as by Nature's hand. 

Shaded the flow'rs ; and to her Eden drew 

The earliest concerts of the spnng, and all 

The various music of the vecal year, « 

Retreat romantic ! Thus, from early 3routb, 

Her life she led : one summer's day, serene 

And foir, without a cloud ! like poets dreams 

Of vernal landscapes, of Elysian vales. 

And islands of the blest ; where, hand in hand. 

Eternal Spring and Autumn mie the year. 

And love and joy lead on immortal youth ! 

Twas on a summer's day, when c^y sbow'ra 
Had wak'd the various vegetable race 
To life and beauty, fair Levma stray'd. 
Far in the blooming wilderness she stray'd. 
To gather herbs, and ihe foir race of flow'rs^ 
That Nature's hand creative pours at will. 
Beauty unbounded, over Earth's green lap. 
Gay without number, in the day of ram. 
O'er values gay, o'er hillocs green she walked. 
Sweet as the season ; and at times awak'd 
The echoes of the vale, with native notes 
Of heart-felt joy, in numbers beav'nly swe et 
Sweet as th' bosannahs of a form of light, 
A sweet-tongu'd seraph in the bow'rs of blisk 

Her, as she halted on a green hill-top, 
A quiver'd hunter spy 'd. Her flowmg locks. 
In golden ringlets glitt'ring to the Sun, 
I 'pon her bosom play'd : her mantle green. 
Like thine, O Nature ! to her rosy cheek 
Lent beauty new ; as from the verdant leaf 
The rose-bud blushes with a deeper bloom. 
Amid the n^alks of May. The stranger's eye 
Was caught as with etherial presence. Oft 
He look'd to Heav'n, and oft he met her ^e - 
In all the silent eloquence of love ; 
Then, wak'd from wonder, with a smile b^an : 
" Fair wand'rer of the wood ! what beav'nly power, . 
Or providence, conducts thy wand'ring steps 
To this wild forest, firora thy native seat 
And parents, happy in a child so foir ? 
A sb€»>herdess, or virgin of the vale. 
Thy dress bespeaks; but thy miyestic mien. 
And eye, bright as the morning sUr, eoofess 
' Superior birth and beauty, bom to rule : 
As from the stormy cloud of night, that veils 
Her virgin orb, appears the queen of Heav'n, 
And with full beauty gilds the face of night. 
Whom shall I call the fairest of her sex. 
And charmer of my soul ? In yonder vale. 
Come, let us crop the roses of tlie brook. 
And wildings ^ the wood : soft under shade 
Let us recline Dy mossy fountain-side. 
While the wood suffers in the beam of noon. 
I'll bring my love the choice of all the shades ; 
First fruits ; the apple redd v from the rock ; 
And clust'ring nuU, that burtiish in the b^un. 
O wilt thou bless my dweUing, and become 



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THE EPISODE OF LEVINA. 



71 



Hie ovaer of tiieie fields? I'll give thee all 
Uttt 1 possess ; and all tbou seest is mine." 

Thus spoke the youth, with rapture in bis eye ; 
And thiK the maiden, with a blash, began : 
** Beyond the shadow of these mountains green, 
I>ecplbosom'd in the Tale, a cottage stands. 
The dwelling of my sire, a peaceful swain ; 
Yet at bis fhigal board Health sits a guest. 
And bk Coo t eii tm ent crowns his hoary hairs. 
The patriarch of the plains : ne*er by bis door 
The needy passM, or the way-faring man. 
His only daughter and his only joy, 
I Iced my Cither's flock ; and, while they rest, 
Al times retiring, loae me in the wood, 
SkBPd in the virtoes of each secret herb 
That opes ita virgin bosom to the Moon.— 
No flow'r amid the garden fairer grows 
Than the sweet Itly of the lowly vale. 
The queen of Oow'rs — But sooner might the weed 
l^at bkxms and dies, the being of a day, 
Presonie to match with yonder moontain.-oak, 
Tbat stands the tempest and the bolt of Heaven, 
From age to age the monarch of the wood — 

! had yoo been a shepherd of the dale. 
To feed your flock beside me, and to rest 
With nte at noon in these deligbtful shades, 

1 might have listened to the voice of love, 
Kotlung reluctant ; might with you have walked 
Whole summer suns away. At even-tide, 
Wben Heav'n and Earth in all their glory shine 
With Che last smiles of the departing Suu : 
Wben Che sweet breath of Summer feasts tne sense. 
And seeret pleasare thrills the heart of man ; 

We nnght have walk'd alone, in converse sweet. 
Along the quiet vale, and woo^d the Moon 
To hear the music of trae lovert vows. 
Bo& late forbids ; and fortune's potent frown. 
And honour, inmate of the noble breast 
Ne'er can this hand in wedlock join with thine. 
Cease, beanteoos stranger 1 cease, beloved youth ! 
To vex a heart that never can be yours." 

Thns spoke the maid, deceitful : but her eyes, 
Beyood the paitial purpose o£ her tongue, 
FersnasioB gain'd. The deep-enanu>ur*d youth 
^%ood gaaing on her charms, and all his soul 
Was loat in love. He grasp'd her trembling band, 
Asd breath'd the softest, the sincerest vowb 
Ofbve: "O virgin! foirest of the fair 1 
My one beloved ! were the Scotish throne 
To me trumnitted thro* a scepter'd line 
Of aacestars, thou, thon shoold'st be my qoeeo, 
Aad Caledooia*s diadems adoro 
A biier bead than ever wore a crown !" 

She reddened like the morning, under veil 
Ofher own golden hair. The woods among 
They wander'd up and down with fond delay, 
Mor marked the foil of ev'ning : parted, then. 
The happiest pair on whom the Sun declined. 

Xexl day be found her on^ flow*ry bank. 
Half nader shade of willows, by a spring, 
The mirror of the swahis, that u^er the meads, 
Skw.wiodjiig, scattered flowerets in its way. 
Thry many a wiadii^ walk and alley green, 
At led hioi to her garden. Wonder-struck 
fie gsz'd, all eya, o*er th' enchanting scene : 
Aad much be pnusMthe walks, the groves, the 

flov*ra, 
fchiamifiJ creatJoa: much be prais'd 



I The beautiful creatress ; and awakM 
The Echo in her praise. Like the first pair, 
Adam and Eve, in Eden's blissful bow»rs. 
When newly come from their Creator's hand. 
Our lovers liv*d in joy. Here, day by day. 
In fond endearments, in embraces sweet, 
That bvers only know, they liv'd, they lov'd. 
And found the Paradise that Adam lost — 
Nor did the virghi, with false modest pride, 
Retard the nuptial mom : she fix'd the day 
That bless'd the youth, and opened to his eyes 
An asfe of gold, the Heav'n of happiness - 
That lovers in their lucid moments dream. 

And now the morning, like a rosy bride 
Adumed on her day, put on her robes, 
Her beauteous robes of light : the naiad streams. 
Sweet as the cadence of a poet's song, 
Flow*d down the dale ; the voices of the grove. 
And ev'ry winded warbler of the air, 
Sung over head ; and there was joy in Heav'n. 
Ris'n with the dawn, the bride and bridal-maids 
Stray'd thro' the woods, and o'er the vales, in quest 
Of flow'rs and garlands, and sweet-smelhng herbs. 
To strew the bridegroom's way, and deck his bed. 

Fair in the bottom of the level lake 
Rose a green island, cover'd with a spring 
Of flow'rs perpetual, goodly to the eye, 
And blooming from afkr. High in the midst. 
Between two fountains, an enchanted tree 
Grew ever green, and ev'ry month renew'd 
Its blooms and apples of Hesperian gold. 
Here ev'ry bride (as ancient poets sing) 
Two golden apples gather'd from the bough. 
To give the bridegnxmi in the bed of love. 
The pledge of nuptial concord and delight - 
For many a coming year. Levina now 
Had reach'd the isle with an attendant maid, 
And puli'd the mystic apples, pull'd the fruit; 
But wish'd and Tong^d for the enchanted tree. 
Not fonder sought the first created feir 
The fruit forbidden of the mortal tree. 
The source of human woe. Two plants arose 
Fair by the mother's side, with fruits and flow*ri 
In miniature.' One, with audacious hand. 
In evil hour she rooted from the ground. 
At once the island shook, and shrieks of woe 
At times were heard, amid the troubled air. 
Her whole frame shook, the blood forsook her facc^ 
Her knees knock'd, and her heart within her dy'd. 
Trembling and pale, and boding woes to come. 
They seiz'd the boat, and hurry 'd from the isle. 

And now they gain'd the middle of the lake. 
And saw th' approaching land : now, wild with joy. 
They row'd, they flew. When lo ! at once effos'd. 
Sent by the angry demon of the isle, 
A whirlwind rose: it lash'd the furious lake 
To tempest, overturned the boat, and sunk 
The fair Levina to a wat'ry tomb. 
Her sad companions, bending from a rock. 
Thrice saw her head, and supphcating handc 
Held up io Heav'n, and heard the shriek of Death ; 
Then over her the parting billow clos'd. 
And op'd no more. Her fote in mournful lays 
The Muse rek^ ; and sure each tender msiid 
For her shall heave the sympathetic sigh. 
And haply my Eumelia, (for her soul 
Is pity's self), as, void of household cares. 
Her ev'ning walk sbc bend»beadt the lake. 



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7« 



LOGAN'S POEMS. 



Which yet retains her name, shall sadly drop 
A tear, in mem'ry of the hapless maid ; 
And mourn with me the sorrows of the youth. 
Whom fr6m his ^Distress death did not divide. 
KobbM of the calm possession i»f his mind, 
All night he wander*d by the sounding shore. 
Long looking o*er the lake; and saw at times 
The dear, the dreary gho6>t of her be lov'd : 
Till love and grief subdued his roanly prime. 
And brought his youth with sorrow to the grave— 

I knew an aged swain, whose hoary head 
Was bent with years, the village-chronicle. 
Who much had seen, and from the former times 
Much had received. He, hanging o'er the hearth, 
In winter ev'ntngs, to the gaping swains. 
And children circling round the fire, would tell 
Stories of old, and tales of other times : 
Of Xiomond and Levina he woi^ld talk-^ 



ODE: 
TOPAOLI. 

What man, what hero shall the Muses sing. 
On classic lyre, or Caledonian string. 

Whose name shall fill th' immortal p&ge; 
Who, fir'd from Heav*n with energy divme. 
In sun-bright glory bids his actions shiae 
First in the annals of the age ? 
Ce^^s^d are the golden times of yore ; 
The age of heroes are no more : 
Bare, in these latter times, arise ^ fame 
The poet's strain inspired, or hero's heav'nly flame. 

What star arising in the southern sky. 
New to the Heav'ns, attracting Europe's eye. 

With beams unborrowed shines afiu- ? 
Who comes, with thousands marching in his rear. 
Shining in arms, shaking his bloody spear. 
Like the red comet, sign of war ? 
Paoli ! sent of Heav'n, to save 
A rising nation of the brave j 
Whose firm right hand his angels arm, to bear 
A shield before his host, and dart the bolts of war. 
He comes ! he conies ! the saviour of the land ! 
His drawn sword flames in his uplifted band, 

Enthusiast in his country's cause ; 
Whose firm resolve obeys a nation's oally 
To rise deliverer, or a martyr fall 
To liberty, to dying laws. 
Ye sons of freedom, sing his praise ! 
Ye poets, bind his brows with bays ; 
Ye scepter'd shadows, cast your honours down, 
And bow before the bead that never wore a crown ! 
Who to the hero can the palm refuse ? 
Great Alexander still th^ world subdues. 

The heir of everlasting praise. 
But when the hero's flame, the patriot's liglit 5 
When virtues human and divine unite ; 
When olives twine among the bays; 
And mutual, both Miner vas shine : 
A constellation so divine, 
A wond'ring world behold, admire, «Dd love. 
And his best inrage heieth' Alongb^ maiks abore. 



As the lone shepfaa:d bides bim 10 ff»e roefti^ 
WbeO'higb Heav'n thunders; as the tim'nxB flocts 

From the descending torrent flee : 
So flies a world of slaves at war's alarms. 
When zeal 00 flame, and liberty in arms, 
lieads on the fSearleas and the free, 
ResistleM ; as the torrent flood, 
Hom'd like the Moon, vproots the wood. 
Sweeps flocks, and herds,and harvests from their base^ 
And moves th' eternal hills from their appointedplaoe. 
Long hast thou labouHd in the glorious strife, 
O land of liberty ! profbse of life. 

And prodigal of priceless blood. [crown. 

Where heroes brought with blood the martyr'a 
A race arose, heirs of their high renown. 

Who dar'd their fate thro' ffare and flood : 
And Gaffori tbe great arose. 
Whose words of pow'r disarm'd his foes ; 
And where the filial image smil'd a&r. 
The sire tnrned not aside the thunders of tbe war* 
O Liberty ! to man a guardian giv'n. 
Thou best and brightest attribute of Heav'o ! 

From whom descending, thee we sing. 
By nature wild, or by the arts refin'd, 
We feci thy pow'r essential to our mind ; 
Each son of freedom is a king. 
Thy praise the happy world proclaim. 
And Britain worships at thy name. 
Thou guardian angel of Britannia's isle ! 
And Gk)d and man rejoice in thy immortal sittQe ! 
Island of beauty, lift thy head on high I 
Sing a new song of triumph to tbe sky ^ 

The day of thy deliv'niDce springs — 
The day of vcng'ance to thy ancient foe! 
Thy sons shall lay tbe proud oppressor low. 
And break tbe head of tyrant kings. 
Paoli \ mighty man of war I 
All bright in arms, tby conqu'ring car 
Ascend; thy people from the foe reil^m. 
Thou delegate of Heav'n, and son of tbe Supreme ' 
RuI'd by th' eternal la^s, supreme overall. 
Kingdoms, like kiogs, successive rise and ftJL 

When Cesar conqner'd half the Earth, 
And spread hb eagles in Britannia's sun ; 
Did Cesar dream the savage huts he won 
Should give a far-fam*d kingdom birth ? 
That here should Roman freedom tight ; 
The western Muses wing their flight ; 
The Arts, the Graces And then: fisvVite home ; 
Our armies awe the globe, amd Britain rival Rome? 
Thus, if th' Almighty say, " Let freedom be,»» 
Thou, Corsica ! thy golden age shalt see. 

Rejoice with songs, rejoice with smiles 1 
Worlds yet unfound, and ages yet unborn. 
Shall hail a new Britannia in her mom. 
The queen of art;^, the queen of isles ; 
Tbe Arts, the beauteous train of Peace,- 
Shall rise and rival Home and Greece ; 
A Newton Nature's book unfold sublime ; 
A Miitoii sing to Heav'n, &iid dmrm the earof Hme ! 



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THE 

POEMS 



OP 



THOMAS WARTON^ B,D, 



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THE 

LIFE OF THOMAS WARTON, B. D; 

BY MR. CHALMERS. 



Mr. WARTON was descended from an ancient and honourable fiunfly of Bererley, 
in Yorkshire. Hb father was fellow of Magdalene College, Oxford, poetry professor m 
that university, and afterwards vicar of Basingstoke, Hants, and Chobham, Surrey: 
He married Elizabeth, daughter of the late Joseph Richardson, rector of Dunsford, 
Sarrey, and had by her three children : Joseph, the late head master of Winchester 
school ; Thomas, the subject of this memoh-, and Jane, a daughter, now living. He 
died m 1746, and b buried under the rails of the altar of his church at Basingstoke^ 
with in mscription on a tablet near it, written by hb sons. They afterwards publbhed 
a vohime of hb poems, by subscription, chiefly with a view to pay the few debts ho 
left behind, and supply hb children with some assistance in the progress of their edii- 
otioo. Whether the success of thb volume was equal to their hopes, b uncertain^ 
hot the poems acquired no reputation. 

Thomas was bom at Basingstoke, in 1728, and from hb earliest years discovered a 
kBdoatrfoT readuig, and a taste for poetry. In hb ninth year, he sent to hb sbter 
tke feOowiog translation from the Latin of Martial. 

When l)old Leaoder sought bis distant fair, 
(Nor could the tea a braver burthea l>ear) 
Thus to the twelling waves he spoke his woe, 
" Drown me on my return — but ^pare me as I ga*' 

Tins curiosity b authenticated by the letter in which he sent it, still in the possession 
of fab sister. It bears date *^ from the school, Nov. 7» 1737*'' Hb biographer, Mr. 
Mant, says, that he continued under the care of hb jfather until hb removal to Oxford, 
but I have been informed that he was phced for some time at Basingstoke school. 

In Bfarcfa 1 743, in hb sixteenth year, he was admitted a commoner of Trinity CoU 
lege, and soon after was elected a scholar. How much he was ever attached to thai 
eoUege, hb writings, and a residence'of forty-seven years with very few intervals, suf- 
Sdently show. In 1745, he published five pastoral eclogues, which are now 
Mlded to fab other poems; they are authenticated by Mr. Isaac Beed's copy, 
puchased at hb late sale. About the same time> he sent one or two articles to 

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76 ^ LIFE OF WARTON. 

Dodsley*^ Museum S to whkh his brother was likewise a contributor; his next de- 
tached publication was The Pleasures of Melancholy, of which the first copy is now in 
my possession, and differs considerably, particularly in the introductory part, from 
that published in his collection of poem^. On the appearance of Mason's Lis, reflect- 
ing on the loyalty of Oxford, which a foolbh riot among some students bad brought 
into question, Mr. Warton, encouraged by Dr. Huddesford, the president of Trinity, 
publbhed in 17499 The Triumph of Isis, in which he retaliated on the sons of Cam in 
no very courtly sthiins. The poem, however, discovered beauties of a more unmixed 
kind, which pointed him out as a youth of great promise. It is remarkable, that 
although he omitted thb piece in an edition of his poems printed in 1777 9 he restored 
it in that of 1779: thb b said to have been done at Masons suggestion, who was 
candid enough to own that it greatly excelled hb own elegy, both in poetical imagery 
and correct flow of versification ; but Mason appears to have forgot that hb personal 
share in the contest was but trifling, and that it contained a libel on the university of 
Cambridge, which ought not to have been perpetuated. 

In 1750, our author contributed « fisw small pieces to the Student, or Oxford and 
Cambridge Miscellany, then published by Newbery. Among Uiese was the Progress 
of Discontent, which had been written in 1746, and was founded on a copy of Latin 
terscs, a weekly exercise, much applauded by Dr. Huddesford, and at his desire„ 
pttrapiirased into English verse. In thb state Dr. Warton preferred it to any imita^ 
ticto of Swift he had ever seen. Hb talents were now generally acknowledged, and iu 
I747^ttttd 1748, lie held the office of poet laureate, conferred upon him according to 
ati ancient practice in the common room of Trinity College. The duty of this 
office >fms to celebrate the lady chosen by the same authority, as the lady patroness^ 
iod Walton performed hb task, on an appouited day, crowned with a wreath of laurel. 
The verses, whkh Mr» Mant says are still to be seen in tlie couunon room, are writ^ 
ten in an elegant and flowing style, but have not been thought worthy of transcription. 

In 1750, he took hb master's d^ree, and in 1731 succeeded to a fellowship. In 
tiib kisl year be publbhed hb excellent satire, entitled Newmariiet; An Ode to 
Muric, performed at the theatre ; and yerses on the death of Frederick prince of 
Wales, which he inserted in the Oxford collection, under the fictitious name of John 
Whetham, a practice not uncommon. In 1 753 appeared at Edmburgh, The Union, 
or Select Scots and Englbh Poems ; Mr. Warton was the editor of thb small volume, 
in which he inserted hb Triumph of Isis and other pieces, particularly the Ode on the 
approach of Summer, and the Pastoral m the manner of Spenser, which b said to be 
written by ia gentleman formeriy of the university of Aberdeen. Why be should make 
use of such a deception, cannot now be discovered. 

Abont the year 1764, he drew up from the Bodleian and Savilian statutes, a body 
of statutes for the Radolifl^e library. In the same year, he publbhed hb Observations 
on the Faerie Queene of Spenser, in one volume octavo, but afterwards enlarged and 
publbhed in two volumes, 1762. By thb work he not only esublisbed hb character 
a^'an acute critic, but opened to the worid at hrge that new and inq>ortant field of 

» Tliese were, a mmg imitated from the Midsummer Night»8 Dream, and a prose essay on Snogncw, 
Written partly by lym and partly by Dr. Vansittart: They are authenticated by Dr. Warton*8 autosraph. 
In Us copy ofthe Miiseam|fnift mr, C 



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LIFE OP WARTON* 77 

cntictsm and Sluslratioil which has since been so ably cultivated by SteevenSi Malone, 
Reed, Todd, and other comraeutators on our ancient poets. 

Soon after the appearance of the Observations, it was attacked in an abpsive 
pomphltt, entitled The Observer Observed, written by Huggins, the author of a very 
iodi&rent translation of Aristotle, Huggins had engaged Mr. Warton ui this transla* 
tion, but when he read what Warton asserted of the inferiority of Aristotle to Spenser, 
be immediately cancelled his share of the translation, and published this angry pamph- 
let *. Mr, Warton, who <was now in his thirty-sixth year, had employed fully half that 
time in an unwearied perusal of the old Elnglish poets, and such contemporary writers 
as could throw light on their obscurities. The Observations on Spenser must have 
evidently been the result of much industry, and various reading, aided by a happy 
memory. 

hi 1757. on the resignation of Mr. Hawkins, of Pembroke College, our author was 
elected professor of poetry, which office, according to the usual practice, he held for 
ten years. His lectures were elegant and original. The translations from the Greek 
anthologies, now a part of his collected poems, were first introduced m them, and his 
Dissertatio de Pqesi Bucolic^ Grsccorum, which he afterwards enlarged and prefixed 
to bis edition of Theocritus, was also a part of the same course. During the pubUcation 
of the Idler, he sent to Dr. Johnson, with whom he had long been intimate, numbers 
33, 93, and y6, of that paper. His biographer, however, is mistaken in supposing that 
be contributed any paper to the Connoisseur. His being invited by Colman and Hiom- 
too to engage in a periodical publication, has no relation to the Connoisseur. It was 
Moore, the editor of the Worid, who projected a Magazine soon after the conclusion 
of that paper, and told the two Wartons, that ** he wanted a dull plodding fellow of 
one of the univereilies, who understood Latin and Greek ! ^* Mr. Bedingfield, one of 
Dodsley s poets, and Gataker, the surgeon, were to be concerned in this Magazine, 
but Moore's death prevented the execution of the scheme. 

In 1760 he published, but without hb name, A Description of the City, College, 
and Cathedral of Wmchester, l^mo. From his own copy, in my possession, he ap- 
pean to have been preparing a new edition about the year 1771> which was perhaps 
pretented by a History of Winchester published soon after in two volumes, a more 
•bowy work, bat far more inaccurate. In the same year (1760) he published a piece 
of exquisite humour, entitled, A Companion to the Guide, and a Guide to tlieCompa- 
nioii, being a complete Supplement to all the accounts of Oxford hitherto published. 
This passed througit three editions in a very short time, but for some years has been 

•The following paragraph from Huggios* pamphlet, vrill be a sufficient specimen of the whole. 
" Sec. II. He (Warton) resumes the poisonous acrimony with which he charges his weapon, which be 
takes care shall be judiciously two-edjrpd, lest it fail of slashing friend as well as foe. ' Although, 
(nicb oar observer) Spencer formed bis x'acrie Queens, upon the fanciful plan of Ariosto' — Poor Spen- 
^! Wretched Ariosto !— And oh I most mi^^hty Warton !— Let this suflice^ f^r reply to all, he here 
idrances, of faliihood against Ariosto, which that poem totally confronts ; such falshood, that were it 
truth, b bsipid and imma^rial : and let us pass the Chronicles of the Seven Champions, Morte Artlmr, 
tir Tristram, the Blatant Beast, the Questyn Beast, which is afterwards more particularly described, 
with ahead roll of quotations, no less delectable than erudite, most appositely oollected, to give not only 
t dignity, but also a magnitude to this important tome ; that purchasers may be well supplied, for 
tbdr ^sburwment of pence, either in their meditative fumigations, or at the Cloacinian ofiisrtory." C» 

*W9oU>Iilii of P& Joseph Warton. C. 

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78 LIFE OP WARTON. 

ranked among scarce books \ A more scarce work, however, is bis Inscriptionum 
Roroainarmn Metricarqm Delectus, 4to, wbich ought to have been noticed under the 
year 1758*. The design of thb collection was to present the reader with some of the 
best Roman epigrams and inscriptions, taken from the Elegant ise antiquorum marmo- 
mm, from Mazochius, Smetius, Gruterus, and other learned men. It contains, like- 
wise, a few modem epigrams, one by Dr. Jortin, and five by himself, on the model of 
the antique, the whole illustrated with various readings and notes. 

Almut the year 1 7^0 he wrote, for the Biographia Britannica, the Life of Sir Thomas 
Pope, which he republished in 8vo 1772, and again in 1780; with very considerable 
additions and improvements : and in 1761, he published the Life and Literary Remains 
of Dr. Bathurrt. In the same year, and in 1 762, he contributed to the Oxford col- 
lections, verses on the royal marriage, and on the birth of the prince of Walefs, and an 
ede eutitied the Complaint of Cherwell, under the name of John Chichester, brother 
to the earl of Donegal ^. His next publication was the Oxford Sausage, or Select 
I^eces, written by the most celebrated Wits of the University of Oxford. The preface 
and several of the poems are undoubtedly his, and the latter are authenticated by his 
adding^hem afterwards to his avowed productions. In 1766, he superintended an edition 
from the Clarendon press of Cephalus' Anthology, to which he prefixed a very curious 
and learned preface. In this he announced his edition of Theocritus, which made its 
appearance in two volumes 4to, 1770, a most correct and splendid, although not abso- 
lutely faultless, work, that extended his fame to the contment. 

In 1767 he took his degree of B.D. and m 1771 was elected a fellow of the 
Antiquarian Society: in October of the same year he was instituted to the small 
living of KiddingtoQ» m Oxfordshire;, on the presentation of George Henry, earl of 
Litchfield, then chancellor of the university, a nobleman whose memory he after- 
wards honoured by an epitaph. ' 

In 1774 be publbhed the first volume of his History of English Poetry, the most im- 
portant of all his works, and to the completion of which the studies of hb whole life 
appear to have been bent. How much it is to be regretted that he did not live to 
complete his plan, every student in ancient literature must be deeply sensible. He in- 
tended to have carried the hbtory down to the commencement of the eighteenth 
century. A second volume accordingly appeared in 1778, and a third in 1781, afier 
which he prolmbly relaxed from his pursuit, as at the period of his death in 1790, a few 
sheets only of the fourth volume were printed, and no part left in a state for printing. 
His original intention was to have comprised the whole in two or three volumes, but 
it is now evident, and he probably soon became aware, that five would have scarcely 
been sufficient, if he continued to write on tlie same scale, and to deviate occasionally 
into notices of manners^ laws, customs, &c. that had either a remote or an immediate 
connection with hb principal subjects : what hb reasons were for discontinuing hb 
labours cannot now be ascertained. It b well known to every writer that a work of 

* A new edition was published m 1806, by Mr. Cooke of Oxford, with the original cats. C. 

* This infiMrmation is fiipm Mr, Mant's life. Lord Donegal was, however, one of Mr. Warton's pupils, 
Sbenstooe had a Tisit Crom both at the Leasowes in the summer of 1758. Skenstone^s iMters. On these 
freat occasions of acadeuucal gratulatioos, oar aathor sometiinet wrote Ttnes for, UiOi« who could opt 
wntt fisr themselves. C 



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LIFE OF WABTON. 79 

frrtzi diaj^itude requires temporary relasatioo, oc a chaoge o£ em^yment^ and may 
adjiiit of both williout injury: but he might probably find that it was now less easy 
to return with spirit to his fnagnum opus, thaa in the days of more Y^our and activity. 
It b certain that he \^ bhed llie public to ttunk that he was making his usual progress, 
for in 17 Ho, when he published Milton's Juvenile Poems» he announced the speedy 
pnblicatiou of the fourth volume of the history, of which from that time to his death 
ten sheets ouly were fiuished« His brother. Dr. Joseph, was long supposed to be 
eo^gcd in completing this fourth volume. In one of his letters lately published by 
Mr. Wool], and dated 179^, he says, ^ At any leisure I get busied in finishing the 
lait volume of Mr. Waj1on*s History of Poetry, which I have engaged to do — for the 
booksellers are clamorous to have the book finished (though the ground 1 am to go over 
is so beaten) that it may be a complete work." Yet on his death in 1800 it did not 
appear that he had made any progress, 

Mr. Wart ou's biographer has traced the origin of this work to Pope, who, according 
to Ruffhead, bad sketched a plan of a history of poetry, dividing the poets mto classes 
or schools, but Rufi'head's list of poets is grossly erroneous. Gray, however, Mr* 
Mison informs us, had meditated a history of English poetry, in which Mason was to 
assist him. Their^ design was to introduce specimens of the Proven9al poetry, and of 
the Scaldic, British, and Saxon, as preliminary to what first deserved to be called 
English poetry, about the time of Chaucer, from whence their history, properly so 
called, was to commence. Gray, however, was deterred by the magnitude of the 
uodertaking, and being informed that Wartoii was employed on a similar design, more 
readily relinquished his own. ** 

Such is Mr. Mant's account, who adds (in p. cxxvi ) that Warton "judiciously pre- 
ferred the plan on which he had proceeded, to that proposed by Pope, Gray and 
Mason." It appears to me, however, that Warton had made considerable progress on 
bis own plan, before he knew any thmg of Gray's, and that when he heard of the 
htter, and perhaps at the same time of its being relinquished, he thought proper, 
which he might then do without indelicacy, to apply t^ Gray through the medium of Dr* 
Hard, requestmg that he would communicate any fragments, or sketches of his design. 
Mr. Gray, in answer to thb application, sent the following letter. 

••Sir, •' 15lh April 1770, Pembroke Hall. 

•• Our friend Pr. Hurd having long ago desired me in your name to com- 
municate anyjfiragmcnts, or sketches of a design I once had to give a history of English 
poetry, yon may well think me rude or negligent, when you see me hesitating for so 
jMtny months before I comply with your request, and yet (believe me) few of your 
frieods have been better pleased than I to find this subject (surely neither unentertain- 
iog nor unuseful) had fallen into hands so likely to do it justice: few have felt a higher 
esteem for your talents, your taste and industry: in truth the only cause of my delay 
has been a sort of diffidence, that wotild not let me send you any thing so short, so 
di^t, and so imperfect, as the few materials I had begun to collect, or the observa- 
tioDs I had made on them. A sketch of the division and arrangement of the subjects, 
however, I venture to transcribe, and would wish to know whether it corresponds in 
aoy thing with your own plan, for I am told your first volume is already in the press. 



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80 LIFE OP WARTON. 

<< Introduction.— On the poetry of the Gtilk (or Celtic) natioD^ as far bad[ as it 
can be/traced. 

« On that of the Goths: its introduction into these islands by the Saxons and 
Danes, and its duration. On the origin of rhyme among the Franks, the Saxons» and 
Proven9aux : some account of the Latin rhyming poetry from its early origin down to 
the 1 5th century, 

"P. 1.— On the school of Provence, which rose about the year^llOO, and tvat 
soon followed by the French and Italians: their heroic poetry, or romances in verse, 
allegories, fabliaux, syrvientes, comedies, farces, canzoni, sonnets^ balades, madrigals, 
sestiiies, &c. Of their imitators the French] and of the first Italian school (com- 
monly called the Sicilian) about the year 1200, brought to perfection by Bante, Pe- 
trarch, Boccace, and others. 

" State of poetry in England from Ibe Conquest (1066) or rather from Henry ll's 
time (I i54) to the reign of Edward the Sxd (132T). 

" P. 2. — On CAflMfrr, who first introduced the manner of the Provenpanx, 
improved by the Italians, into our country; his character and merits at large; ih« 
different kinds in which he excelled. Gower, Occlave, Lydgate, Hawes, G. Douglas, 
Lmdsay, Bellenden, Dunbar, &c. 

** P. 3. — Second Italian school (of Ariosto, Tasso, &c.) an improvement on the 
first, occasioned by the revival of letters m the end of the 1 5th century. The lyric 
poetry of thb and the former age introduced from Italy by lord Surrey, sir T. Wyat, 
Bryan, lord Vaux, &c. in the beginning of the l6th century. 

*' Spenser^ his character, subject of his poem allegoric and romantic, of Provencal 
invention : but his manner of creating it borrowed from the second Italian school. 
Drayton, Fairfax, Phin. Fletcher, Golding, Phaer, &c. this school ends in Milton. 

" A third Italian hchoo\, full of conceit, begun in Q. Elizabeth's reign, continaed 
under James, and Charles the first, by Donne, Crashaw, Cleveland, carried to its 
height by Cowley, and ends perhaps in Sprat. 

" P. 4. — School of France^ introduced after tlie Restoration. Waller, Dryden, 
Addison, Prior and Pope, which has continued down to our own thnes. 

*' You will observe that my idea was in some measure taken from a scribbled paper 
of Pope^ of which (I believe) you have a copy. You will also see that I have excluded 
dramatic poetry entirely, which if you have taken in, it will at ledst double the bulk 

and labour of your book."^ 

Mr. Mant, very m^turally desirous of accounting for Warton's having deviated 
fiom Gra/s plan, transcribes a part of the preface to the hbtory. Perhaps, how- 
ever, the reader will be baiter pleased with Mr. Warton's answer to the above 
letter, which has never yet appeared, and is now transcribed from Jiis own cofiy* 

/ 
« This letter coiHsladcs wiUi reqae^ting tl^ fkvour of some aUeutiQii to a fneign yomig genUeflaai^ 
f)ien entered of (me of the colleges. Mr. Mant, wbo is iwilej^ted to the Qeotleiiiaa*s Magazine ior U^ 
copy he has given, adds, "There seems no reason to doubt of its genuineness, though there may Iw to 
question who it was that had the power or right to commlinicate it." How it came into the Magazine 
daring Mr. Wnrton's life-time, I know not Tbe original, however, is now m my poGseasion, with War- 
tpii*s goswer. C* 



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LIFE OF WARTON. SI 

* Sir, 
** I am iniiiiitely obliged to you for the favour of your letter. 
**Your Plan for \ht History of English Poetry \% admirably constructed, and 
mncb improved from' an idea of Pope, which Mr. Mason obligingly sent me by appli- 
cadoo from our friend Dr. Hurd. I regret that a writer of your consummate taste 
ihoald not have executed it. 

^ Although I have not followed this plan/yet it is of great service to me, and throws 
much light on many of my periods, by giving connected views and details. I begin 
with such an introduction, or general dissertation, as you had intended : viz. on the 
Northern Poetry, with its introduction into England by the Danes and Saxons, and 
ib duration. I then begin my History at the conquest, which I write chronologically 
iu sections ; and contmue, as matter successively offers itself, in a series of regular 
annab, down to and l>eyond the Restoration. I think with you that dramatic poetry 
is detached from the idea of my work, that it requires a separate consideration, and 
win swell the size of my book beyond all bounds. One of my sections, a very large 
one, is entirely on Chaucer, and exactly filb your title of Part Second. In the course 
of my annals, I consider collaterally tlie poetry of different nations as influencing our 
owi. What I have at present finished ends with the section on Chaucer, and will 
ahnost make my first volume : for I design two volumes m quarto. This first volume 
will soon be in the press. I should have said before, that although I proceed chro- 
nologically, yet I often stand still to give some general view^ as perhaps of a particular 
ipecies of poetry, &c. and even anticipate sometimes for this purpose. These viewi 
often form one section : yet are mterwoven into the tenour of the work, without inter- 
reptiog my historical series. In this respect, some of my sections have the effect of 
your parts or dimsions — ''. 

" I cannot take my leave without declaring, that my strongest incitement to prose- 
cute the History of English Poetry b the pleasing hope of being approved by you ; 
whose true genius I so justly venerate, and whose genuine poetry has ever given me 
such sincere pleasure. I am, sur, ^^c.'' 
" Winchester CoUege, April '20, If 70." 

It is abiost needless to say that the progress of Warton*s History afforded the 
highest gratification to every learned and elegant mind. Ritson, however, whose 
leanuDg appears to have been dear to him only as it administered to his illiberality, 
attacked our author in a pamphlet, entitled Observations on the three first volumes 
of the History of Englbh Poetry, ma familiar Letter to the Author, 1782. In tbb, 
while be pointed out some real inaccuracies, for which he might have received the 
thanks of the historian, his chief object seems to have been to violate, by low scur- 
rility and personal acrimony, every principle of liberal criticism, and of that decorous 
iaterchange of respect which men of learning, not otherwise acquainted, preserve be- 
tween one another. . What could have provoked all this can be known only to those 
who have dipped into a heart rendered callous by a contempt for every thing sacred 
aod social. 

^ This blank is fiJIe«l up l>y a notice of the young foreigner recomnifnded by Gray. C 
Voi. X\ IlL ^ 



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S2 LIFE OF WARTON. 

. In 1777, Mr. Wartoo published a collection of his poems, but omittiiig some wUcb 
had appeared before: a second edition followed in 177^* a third in 1779, tuid a fourth 
in 1789. The omissions m all th^se are now restored. 

In 1781 he seems to have diverted hb mind to a phm as arduous as his History of 
Poetry. He had been for some time making collections for a Parochial History, or 
as it is more usually called, a County History of Oxfordshire. As a specimen, be 
prmted a few copies of the History of the parish of Kiddingioo, which were given to 
his friends,^ but in 1782 an edition was offered to the public. Topography had long 
formed one of Ihs favourite studies, and the acuteness with which he had investigated 
the progress of ancient architectyre ^ gave him undoubtedly high chiims to the henoun 
of an antiquary, but as he stood pledged for the completion of his poetical history, 
it is to be regretted that he should have begun at thb advanced period of life to in- 
dulge the prospect ef an undertaking which he never could complete. 

In 1782 he took an active part in the Chattertonian controversy, by publbhing an 
Enquiry into the authenticity of the Poems attributed to Thomas Rowley. He had 
already introduced the question into his history, and now more decidedly gave hii 
opinion that these poems were the fabrication of Chatterton. The same year, hepnb- 
Ibhed his verses on sir Joshua Reynolds's painted window in New College chapel. 
Thb produced a letter to him from sir Joshua^ in which, with a pardonable vanity, if 
it at all deserve that appellation, he expresses a wish that hb name had appeared in 
th'e verses. In a second edition, Warton complied with a wish so flattering to him- 
self by implying the duration of his poetry, and Reynolds was substituted for the 
word Artist. 

In thb year also he was presented by his college to the donative of Hill Farrance, 
in Somersetshire^ and about the same time became a member of the Literary Club, 
composed of those friends of Dr. Johnson whose conversations form so interesting a 
part of hb life by BoswelL In 1785, he was chosen Camden professor of hbtory on 
the resigpation of Dr. (now sur William] Scott. By the letters added to WooH's life 
of hb brother, we find that our author was making interest for the professorship of 
modem history in 1768, when Vivian was preferred. Warburton on this occasion 
sent him a letter, complimenting him on the heroic manner m which he bore his dbap- 
pomtment, and informmg him, as a piece of consohitioo, that Viviau had an ulcer in 
hb bladder, which was likely to prove fatal in a shoi't time ! — As Camden professor, 
Jie delivered an maugural lecture, rogenious^ learned, and full of promise, but, 
fays hb biographer^ " he suffered the rostrum to grow cold while it was in fab pos- 



The €&ce of poet laureate waa accepted by hun thb year, as it was offered at the 
f express desire of hb miyesty, and he filled it with credit to hunself and to the place. 
Whitehead, hb immediate predecessor, had the mbfortune to succeed Cibber, and 
could with difficulty make the public look seriously on the periodical hibours of the 
laureate, yet by perseverance he contrived to restore some degree of respect to the 
<Ace. Warton succeeded yet better by varying the accustomed modes of address, 
and by recalling the mind to gothic periods and splendid events. The facetious au- 

8 Id his Observations on Spenser; and since puUiibed, with other esiayi on the fame wi^mA, by Vk 
Taylorof Uolbom, 1800. C 



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UFE OF WARTON. 8S 

tIion» mdeed, of the Probationary Odes, (a set of political satires) took some freedom 
with his name, but they seemed to be aware that another Gibber would have suited 
their purpose better; and Warton, who possessed a large share of humour, and a quick 
tense of ridicule, was not to be offended because he had for once been *^ the occasion 
of wit in other men V 

His last publication was an edition of tlie Juvenile Poems of Milton, With notes, the 
object of which was ** to explain his author's allusions, to illustrate or to vindicate his 
beauties, to point out his imitations, both of otliers and of himself, to elucidate his 
obsolete diction, and by the adduction and juxtaposition of parallels gleaned both from 
his poetry and prose, to ascertain his favourite words, and to show the peculiarities of 
his phraseology." The first edition of this work appeared in 17S5, and the second in 
1791» a short time after his death. It appears that he had prepared the alterations 
and additions for llie press some time before. It was indeed ready for the press ia 
l7S9>and probably begun about that time, hut was uot completed until after his death, 
when the task of correcting the sheets devolved upon his brother. His intention was 
to extend his plan to a second volume, containing the Paradise Regained and Samp- 
Son Agonistet, and he left notes on both. He had the proof sheets of tlie first edition 
printed only on one side, which lie carefully bound. They are how in my possession, 
and demonstrate what pains he took in avoiding errour8,and altering oppressions which 
appeared on a second review to be weak or improper. The second edition of Milton 
was enriched by Dr. Charles Bumey's learned remarks on the Greek verses^ and by .some 
observations on the other poems by Warburton, which were comnmnicated to the 
editor by Dr. Hurd. At the time of our author s death, a new edition of his poems 
was also preparing for publication. 

His death was somewhat sudden. Until bis sixty-second year, he enjoyed vigorous 
and uninterrupted health. On lieing seized with the gout, he went to Bath, from which 
he returned recovered, in his own opinion, but it was evident to his friends that his 
ooDStitution had received a fatal shock. On Thursday, May 20, 1790, he passed the 
evening in the common room, and was for some time more cheerful than usual. Be- 
tween ten and eleven o clock he was suddenly seized with a paralytic stroke, and ex« 
pired next day about two o'clock. On the 27th his remains were interred in the ante- 
chqiel of Trinity College, with the highest academical honours ; the ceremony being 
attended, not only by the members of his own college, but by the vice-chancellor, 
heads of houses, and proctors. His grave is marked by a plain inscription which enu- 
i bis preferments, with his age, and the date of his death* 



9 We bsve his liroiber's authority that " he always heartily joined in the laugh, and applauded the 
fW|WWf* wH and humoiir that appeared in many of those original satires.'' , Mr. Bowles's evidence 
nay be cited as more impartial, and as affording the testimony of an excellent judge to the character 
of Walton. " I can say, bemg at that time a schalar of Trinity College, that the laureat, who did the 
fwteit iKnoiiT to liis gtatkm from hit real poetical abilities, did most heartily join in the laugh of the 
Piobatioaary Odes : for a man more devoid of envy, anger, and ill-nature, never existed. 80 sweet was 
his temper, so remote from pedantry and all affectation was his conduct, that when even Rit<(on's scur- 
rikms abuse came out, in which he asserted that his back was " broad enough, and his hcai-t hard 
eBOU^", to l>ear any thing Ritson could lay on it, he only said, with his usual smile, *< a black-Ut- 
Ur'd &og, m !"— BowWs Bditkm of Pope's Works, VI. 325. C. 



02 

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14 LIFE OF WARTON. 

To these parttcuiars, some of which have been takeu from Mr. Mant's life of Wartoii, 
prefixed to an edition of his poems, published in 1802, it may now be added on ano- 
ther authority, that from April 1755 to April 1774, he served the curacy of Wood- 
stock, except during the long vacations, and although bis pulpit oratory does not appear 
to have ever entitled him to particular notice, many are still alive who speak of him' 
with more regard and affection than of any person who ever oiHciated there '^. 

Mr. Warton's personal character has been drawn at great length by Mr. Mant, and 
seems to have no defects but what are iucident to men who have passed their days in 
retirement from polished life. A few pecuharities are recorded which might perliaps 
have been omitted without injury to the portrait. Some of them seem to be given upon 
doubtful authority, and others arc not strictly speaking characteristic, because not habi- 
tual, or, if habitual, are too insigniBcant for notice, h is of as little consequence to ktiow 
that Mr.Warton smoked tobacco, as that Gibbon took snuff, and Johnson preserved the 
chips of oranges, ft has been said, however, that Mr. Warton was a lover of low 
company, a more serious charge, if it could be substantiated. But what low com- 
pany means b not always very obvious. It is not asserted that Warton disgraced his 
character by a constant association w ith low company, and that he should have occa- 
sionally amused himself with the manners and conversation of humble tradesmen^ 
mechanics, or peasants, was surely no great crime in one whose researches imposed m 
some degree the necessity of studyuig mankind in all ranks, and who, in the illustra- 
tion of our ancient poets, had evidently profited by becoming acquainted with the 
converssltion of the modem vulgar. 

In literary company he b said to have been rather silent, bi\t this, his surviving friends 
can recollect, was only where the company consisted of a majority of strangers; and 
a man who has a reputation to guard will not lightly enter into conversation before he 
knows something of those with whom he is to converse. In the company of his 
firiends, among whom he could reckon the learned, the potite, and the gay, no man 
vras more communicative, more social in his habits and convessation, or descended 
more frequently from the grave interchange of sentiment, to a mere play of wit 

His temper was habitually calm. His disposition gentle, friendly, and forgiving. 
His resentments, where he could be supposed to have any, were expressed rather in 
the language of jocularity than anger. Mr. Mant has given as a report what it were 
to be wished he had omitted, that Dr. Johnson said of Warton, *'he was the only 
man of genius that he knew without a heart.* It is highly improbable that Johnson» 
who loved and practised truth and justice, should say thb of one with whom he had 
exchanged so many acts of personal and literary friendship. It b to be r^retted, in- 
deed, that towards the end of Johnson's life, there was a coolness between him and 
tlie Warlons, but if it be true that he wept on the recollection of hb past friendship, 
it b very unlikely that he would have^ characterised Mr. Warton m the manner re- 
ported. Whatever was the cause of the abatement of their intimacy, Mr. Warton 
dbcovered no resentment when he communicated so many pleasing anecdotes of John- 
son to Mr. Boswell, nor when he came to dbcuss the merits of Milton in opposition to 

M Baldwin's Literary Jonrnal, 1803, where are some other anecdotes and characteristics very ho- 
nourable to Mr. Warton, and evidently written by one who knew hioi well, C. 



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LIFE OF WARTON. . «S 

tbe opinions of that eminent critic. Dr. Warton, indeed, as may be seen in bis notes 
ofl Pope, mixed somewhat more asperity witli his review of Jolmson's sentiments. 

Instances of Warton s tenderness of heart, affectionate regard for children, and general 
humanity, have been -accumulated by all who knew hini. Nor is this wonderful, for he 
knew nothing of one quality which ever keeps the heart shut, lie had no avarice, no 
ambition to acquire the superiority which wealth is supposed to confer. For many years 
be lived on his maintenance from college, and from the profits of a small living, witli the 
occasional fruits of his labour as a teacher or as a writer. It cannot be doubted that 
as he had been tutor to the son of the prime minister, (lord North) and to the sons of 
other persons of rank, he might reasonably have expected higher preferment. But 
it happens with preferment more generally than the world suspects, that what is not 
asked is not given. Warton had a mind above servile submission, yet he would have 
asked where asking is a matter of course, had not his contented indolence, or perhaps 
the dread of a refusal, induced him to sit dowoi with the emoluments which cost neither 
trouble or anxiety. What he got by his writings could not be much. However ex- 
cellent in themselves, they were not calculated for quick and extensive sale, and it is said 
be sold the copy-right of his History of Poetry for less than four hundred pounds. 

Id the exercise of his profession as a divine, Mr. M ant has not heard that be was 
much distinguished. He went through the routine of parochial duty in a respectful 
manner, but a hurried mode of speakmg, partly owing to habit and partly to a natural 
impediment, prevented his being heard with advantage ^\ It is a more serious objec- 
tion, that he has, particnlarly in his notes on Milton, expressed opinions on religious 
topics, the coDsequence of which he had not deliberately considered. He bated Puritans 
and Calvmists, but does not seem to have understood very clearly that his own church, 
and every pure church, has many doctrines in common with them. His opinions 
on psalmody, and on the observation of Sunday, are particulariy objectionable. 

As a contributor to the literature of his country few men stand higher than Warton. 
He was the first who taught the true method of acquiring a taste for tlie excellencies 
of our ancient poets, and of rescuing their writings from obscurity and oblivion. In 
this respect he btbe fother of the school of commentators, and if some have, in certain 
iastances, excelled their master, they ought to recollect to whom they are indebted for 
directing them to the paths of research. Of Warton it may be said as of Addison, , 
'^ He is now despised by some who perhaps would never have seen his defects, but by 
tbe lights which he afforded them." His eruditiou was extensive, and his industry must 
have been at one time incessant. The references in his History of Poetry only, indi- 
cate a coarse of various reading, collation and transcription, to which the common life 
of man seems insufficient He was one of those scholars who have happily rescued the 
itody of antiquities from the reproaches of the frivolous or indolent. Amidst the most 
m^ed tracks of ancient lore, he produces cultivated spots, flowery paths, and gay 
prospects* Many of the digressions that have been censured in his history, appear to 
have been contrived for this purpose, and the relief which his own mind demanded, 
he thought would not be unacceptable to bis fellow-travellers. 

'^ Two sermons which he preached repeatedly are in my possession, but neither written by himself. 
One it a printed lermoD for the Martyrdom, curiously abridged: tbe other it in ao old hand, probably 
Us&tber't. C. 



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86 LIFE OF WAKTON. 

To the industry which be employed in all bis literary anderlakiogs, there can b^ ii# 
doubt he was indebted for much of that placid temper and contentment which dis- 
tinguished him as a resident member of the university. The miseries of indolence are 
known only to those who have no regular pursuit, nothing in view, however easy or 
arduous, nothing by which time may be shortened by occupation, and occupation 
rendered easy by liabit. To all this waste of time and talent, Warton was a stranger. 
During the long vacation, indeed, he generally resided with his brother at Winchester^ 
but even this vras a change of place rather than of occupation. There he found Iit>ra- 
ries, scholars and critics, and could still indulge hb delight in '' doysters pale,** " the 
tapered choir," and ** sequestered isles of the deep dome ;" and there as well as at 
home, he contmyied his researches, and enjoyed solitude or society in such prq)ortions 
as suited his immediate inclination. 

Yet as he pursued an untried path, and was the founder of his own studies, it can- 
not be a matter of great surprise, if he filled in conducting them with due method. 
To this it was owing that the emendations and additions to his first and second volumes 
are so numerous as to have been made the ground of a serious charge against his dili- 
gence and accuracy. But had be lived to complete the work, he conld have no doubt 
ofiered such excuses as must have been readily accepted by every reflecting mind. If 
we admit the magnitude of the undertaking, which evklently exceeded his own idea 
when he fondly hoped that it might have been finished in two or three volumes ; if 
we consider the vast number of books be had to consult for matters apparently trifling, 
but really important; that he had the duties of a clergyman and tutor to perform whil^ 
engaged in this work, and above all, that his friends were assisting him, often too late, 
with additional illustrations or references, it will not appear highly censurable that he 
dismissed his volumes capable of unprovement. From bis own copy of the first 
volume of his History, and of his edition of Milton, both now before me, it appears 
that he corrected with fastidious care, and was extremely anxious to render his style 
what we now find it, perspicuous, vigorous, and occasionally ornamented. His cor- 
rections, however, are often written in an indistinct hand, and this perhaps occasioned 
fresh errours which be had not an opportunity to correct He had not found out the 
secret, which appears to be yet a secret to most writers, the danger and mconvenieno^ 
of sending unfinished works to the press. Thb was not the practice of our eminent 
historians. Hume, Robertson, and Gibbon completed eveiy line of their volumes be- 
fore they began to print. But whoever attempts to feed the press from day to day» 
will soon find his stores exhausted, and hunself obliged to furnish a hasty, crude copy, 
which, if be is afterwards ashamed of it, he finds it too late to withdrew, and not veir 
easy to mend. — ^With all its faults, however, thb history will ever remam a monument 
of learning, taste, and judgment, such as few men in any nation have been Me to pro- 
duce. 

Hb poetry, as well as that of hb brother, has been the occasion of some diflference 
of opmion among the critics, and the school of Warton, as it b called, has not of late 
been always mentioned with the respect it deserves. Among the characteristics of our 
author's poetry, however, hb style may be considered as manly and energetic, but sel- 
dom varied by the graces of sunpiicity. His habits of thought led him to commence 
iril hb poems in a s^e pompous and sweUingc fab ideas often ran on the inaginai7 
Q 

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LIFE OF WARTON. tT 

days of goduc grandeur, and mighty achievement ; and where such subjects were to 
be treated, as in bis Triumph of Isis, and in bis Laureat Odes, no man could have 
clothed them in language more appropriaK\ 

The Triumph of Isb was written in his twenty-first year, and exhibits the same 
beauties and faults which are to be found in his mature productions. Among these 
last, is a redundancy of epithet, which is more frequently a proof of labour than of 
taste. The Pleasures of Melancholy appears to me to be a more genuine specimen of 
early talent He was only in bis seventeenth year, when his mind was so richly stored 
with strikmg and elegant imagery. 

In general, he seems to have taken Milton for his model, and throughout his poems 
we find expressions borrowed with as much freedom from Milton, as he has proved 
that Milton borrowed from others. One piece only, Newmarket, is an imitation of 
Fope, and is certamly one of the finest satires in our language. lu this he has not 
ODJ^ adopted the versification of Pope, and eumlated his wit and point, but many of 
his lines are parodies on what he recollected in Pope's Satires. This freedom of bor- 
rowing, however, seems so generally allowed, that it can form no higher objection 
against Warton, than against Pope, Gray, and others of acknowledged eminence. We 
cannot be surprised that the memory of such a student as Warton, should be familiar 
with the choicest language of poetry, and that he should oflen adopt it unconscious of 
its being the property of another. 

The frequent use of alliteration is a more striking defect It is wonderful, that he 
who had an ear for music, could tolerate such Hues as 

Issues to clothe in gladsome glist'ring greea 
The genial globe — 

or, 

The due clock swinging slow with sweepy swing, 

which, by the way, is a parody on a more expressive line. 

Swinging slow with sullen roar. « 

These however are strictures which ought not to interfere with the general merit of 
Warton, as a poet of original genius. His descriptive pieces, had he written nothing 
dse, would have proved his claim to that title. Nothing can be more natural, just, 
or dei^tful, than his pictures of rural life. The first of April, and the Approach of 
Summer, have seldom been rivalled, and cannot perhaps l>e excelled. The only 
objection which some critics have started is, that his dcsciiptions are not varied by re- 
flection. He gives an exquisite landscape, but does not always express the feelings it 
creates. His brother, speaking of Thomson, observes, that the unexpected insertion 
of reflections, '* imparts to us the same pleasure ttiat we feel, when, in wandering 
through a wUdemess or grove, we suddenly behold in the turning of the walk a statue 
of some Virtue or Muse.** Yet in Warton's descriptive poetry, it is no small merit to 
have produced so much effect, so many exquisite pictures without this aid. 

The Suicide perhaps deserves a yet higher character, rising to the sublime by grada- 
tions which speak to every imagination. It has indeed been objected that it is imper- 
fect, and too allegorical. It appeals, however, so forcibly to the heart, awakens so 
many important reflections, and contains so happy a mixture of terrour and consola- 
tbn, that it seems difficult to lay it down without unmixed admiration. The Crusade 



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«S LIFE OF WARTON. 

and the Grave of Arthur* are likewise specimens of genuine poetical taste^ acting on 
materials that are difficult to manage. Both ip invention and execution, these odes 
may rank among the finest of their species in our language. 

Warton has afforded many proofs of an exquisite relish for humour in his Pane- 
gyric on Oxford Ale, the Progress of Discontent, and other pieces classed under that 
denomination. His success in these productions leads once more to the reroariL that 
few men have combined so many qualities of mmd, a taste for the sublime and 
the pathetic, the gay and humorous, the pursuits of the antiquary, and the pleasnres 
of amusement, the labours of research, and the play of imagination. 

Upon the whole, it may be allowed, that as a poet, he is original, various and ele- 
gant, but thai in most of his pieces he discovers the taste that results from a studied 
train of thought, rather than the wild and eniliptured strains that arise from passion, 
inspired on the moment, ungovernable in their progress, and grand even in their wan- 
derings. Still he deserves to be classed among the revivers of genuine poetiy» by pie- 
ferring *^ fiction and iancy^ picturesque description and romantic imagery," to ^ wit 
and elegance, sentiment and satire, sparkling couplets, and pointed periods *V 

^ Preface to Milton's Poems. C 



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POEMS 



OF 



THOMAS WAR TON. 



MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. 



Grotii Excerpta ex Tragicis, p. 463. 
et Valckenaerii Diatriben in Euri- 
pidis relliq. p. 212. 



THE 

TRIUMPH OF mS, 

OCCASIONED BY 

ISIS, AN ELEGY. 

(VHTTEH lit 1749, THE AOTHOH's 21 ST YEAR.) 

Quid mihj nescio qaaiD,proprio cum Tybride,Roinani 
Semper in orp geris ? Referunt si vera parentes, 
Hasc urbem iosano nullas qui marte petivit, 
Ictatos violasse redlt. Nee numioa sedem 
DeititaoDt. — Claudian. 

rVN dosing flowers when genial gales diffuse 
" The fragrant tribute of refreshing dews ; 
When chants the milk-maid at her balmy pail, 
And weary reapers whistle o'er the vale ; 
Qann'd by the murmurs of the quivering shade, 
O'er Isis* willoir-fringed banks I stray*d : 
And calmly musing through the twilight way, 
h penstre mood I fram'd the Doric lay. 
When lo ! from openhig clouds a golden gleam 
Pour'd sadden splendours o*er the shadowy stream ; 
And fro^ the wave arose if s guardian queen, 
Knovn by her sweeping stole of glossy green ; 
While in the coral crown, that bonhd her brow, 
Was wore the Delphic lanreTs verdant bough. 

Astiie tmooUi surC^e of the dhnply flood 
IW ahrer-slipper'd mrfpa lightly trod ; 



From her loose hair the dropping dew she press'd^ 
And thus mine ear in accents mild address*d. 

No more, my son; the rural reed employ. 
Nor trill the tinkling strain of empty joy ; 
No more thy love-resounding sonnets suit 
To notes of pastoral pipe, or oaten flute. 
For hark ! high-thronM on yon majestic walls. 
To the dear Muse afflicted Freedom calls : 
When Freedom calls, and Oxford bids thee sing. 
Why stays thy hand to strike the sounding string ? 
While thus, in Freedom's and in Phaebus' spite, 
The venal sons of slavish Cam unite ; 
To shake yon towers when Malice rears her crest. 
Shall all my sons in silence idly rest ? 

Still sing, O Cam, yourfav'rite Freedom's cau$< ; 
Stdl boast of Freedom, while' you break her laws : 
To power your songs of gratulation pay, 
To courts address soft flattery's servile lay. 
WTiat though your gentle Mason's plaintive verse 
Has hung with sweetest wreaths Musaeus' herse ; 
Wliat though your vaunted bard's ingenuous woc» 
Soft as my stream, in tuneful numbers flow ; 
Yet strove his Muse, by fame or envy led. 
To tear the laurels from a sister's head ?— 
Misguided youth ! with rude unclassic rage 
To blot the beauties of thy whiter page ! 
A rage that sullies e'en thy guiltless lays. 
And blasts the vernal bloom of half thy bays. 

Let Granta boast the patrons of her name. 
Each splendid fool of fortune and of fame : 
Still of preferment let her shine the queen. 
Prolific parent of each bowing dean : 
Be hers each prelate of the pamper'd cheek. 
Each courtly chaplain, sanctified and sleek : 
Still let the drones of her exhaustless hive 
On rich pluralities supinely thrive : 
Still let her senates titled slaves revere. 
Nor dare to know the patriot from the peer ; 
No longer charm'd by Virtue's lofty song, 
Once beard sage Milton's manly tones among. 
Where Cam, meandering thro' the matted reeds. 
With loitering wave his groves of laurel feeds. 
'Tis ours, my son, to deal the sacred bay. 
Where honour calls, and justioa points the way ; 



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WARTOm P01^& 



To wear the welUfearn'd >rra«th that merit brings, 
And snatch a gift b^rond the reach of kings. 
Scorning and icom'd by courts, yon Muse's bower 
Still nor enjojrs, nor sedc&, the smile of power. 
Thoogfa wakeful Vengeance watch my crystal spring 
Though Persecutioo wave her iron whig, 
And, o'er yon spiry temples as she flies, 
•• These destin'd seats be mine," exulting cries ; 
Fortune's fair smiles on Isis still attend : 
Aad, as the dews of gracious Heaven descend 
Unask'd, unseen, in still but copious show'rs, 
Her stores on me spontaneous Bounty pours. 
See, Science walks with recent chaplets crown'd ; 
With fancy's strain my fairy shades resound ; 
My Muse divine still keeps her cnstom'd state. 
The mien erect, and high mi^jetic gait : 
Green as of old each oliv'd portal smiles, 
And still the Graces build my Grecian piles : 
My Gothic spires in ancient glory rise. 
And dare with wonted pride to rush into the skies. 

E'en late, when Radcliffie's delegated train > 
Auspicious shoae in Isb' happy plain : 
When yon proud dome, &ir Learning's amplest 

shrine, 
Beneath its Attic roofii receiv'd the Nine ; 
Waa Rapture mute, or ceas'd the glad aoclame. 
To Radcliffe due, and Isis* honour'd name ? 
What free-bom crowds adoro'd the festive day, 
Nor blusb'd to wear my tributary bay ! 
How each brave breast with honest ardours heav'd, 
When Sheldon's fane ^ the patriot band received ; 
Wbile, as we loudly hail'd the chosen few. 
Rone's awful senate rush'd upon the view ! 

may the day in latest annals shine, 
That made a Beaufort and an Elarley mine : 
That bade them leave the loftier scene awhile. 
The pomp of guiltless state, the patriot toil. 
For bleeding Albion's aid the sage design, 

To hold short dalliance with the tundbl nine. 
Then Music left her silver sphere on high. 
Aid bore each strain of triumph from the sky ; 
Svell'd the loud song, and to ray chiefs around 
Pour'd the full paeans of mellifluous sound. 
My Haiads blithe the dying accents caugh^ 
And listening danc'd beneath their pearly grot : 
In gentler eddies play'd my conscious wave. 
And all my reeds their softest whispeis gave ; 
Each lay with brighter green adom'd my bowers. 
And breath'd a fresher fragrance on my flowers. 
But lo ! at once the pealing concerts cease^ 
And crowded theatres are hush'd in peace. 
See, on yon sage hnw all attentive stand. 111 

To catch his darting eye, and waving hand. 

1 The Radcliffie library was dedicated on the 1 3th 
of April, 1749 ; the same year in which this poem 
was written. The ceremony was attended by Charles 
duke of Beaufort, Edward carl of Chcford, and the 
other trustees of Dr. Radcliffe 's will; and a speech 
upon the occasion was delivered in the theatre by 
Dr. King, principal of St Mary Hall, and public 
orator of the university. In order to make some 
allusions in the poem more intelligible, it is neces- 
sary to add, that the " sage" complimented in 
rer. 1 1 1. is Dr. King ; and " the puny champion," 
and the " parricide" of verses 131, and 136, were 
designed for another member of the university, with 
whom Dr. King was engaged in a controversy. 

^ Tbt theatrei boiUby abp. Sbddoa about J67a 



Hark! he begins, with aH a Tullyli aft, 
To pour the dictates of a Cato's heart : 
SkilI'd to pronounce what noblest thoughts impiCi 
Ua blends the speaker's with the patriot's firej 
Bold to conceive, nor timorous to conceA,/ 
What Britons dare to think, be dares to tell< 
Pis his alike the ear and eye to charm. 
To wui with action, and with sense to warm; 
Untaught m flowery periods to dispense . 
The lulling sounds of sweet imperii nenoe : 
Infirowns or smiles he gains an equal prizes 
Nor meanly fea^ to fall, nor creeps to rise ( 
Bids happier days to Albion be restoHd, 
Bids ancient Justice rear her radiant sword ; 
From me, as from my country, claims applause, 
And makes an Oxford's, a Britannia's cause. 

Wbile arms like these my stedfast sages wield. 
While mine is Tnith's impenetrable shield ; 
Say, shall the puny champion fondly dare 131 
To wage with force like this scholastic war ^ 
Still vamly scribble on with pert pretenoei 
With all the rage of pedant impotence ? 
Say, shall I foster this domestic pest. 
This parricide, that wounds a mother's breast f 

Tbusm some gallant ship, that long hasboie 
Britain's victorious cross from shore to shore. 
By chance, beneath her clot«e seqaesler'd cells. 
Some low-born worm, a lurking mischief dwelb ; 
Eats his blind way, and saps with secret guile 
The deep foundations of the floating pile : 
In \'ain the forest lent its stateliest pride, 
Rear'd her tall mast, and fram'd her knotty side ; 
The martial thunder's rage in vain she stood, 
With every conflict of the stormy flood ; 
More sure the reptile's little arts devour. 
Than wars, or waves, or Eurus' wintry power. 

Ye fretted pinnacles, ye fanes sublime. 
Ye towers that wear the mossy vest of time ; 
Ye massy piles of old muuificence. 
At once the pride of learning and defence ; 
Ye cloisters pale, that lengthening to the sight. 
To contemplation, step by step, invite ; 
Ye high-arcb*d walks, where oft the whispers clear 
Of harps unseen have swept the poet's ear; 
Ye temples dim, where pious duty pays 
Her holy hymns of ever-echoing praise ; 
Lo ! your lov'd Isis, from the bordering vale. 
With all a mother's fondness bids you bail ! — 
Hail, Oxford, hail ! of all that's good and great. 
Of all that's foir, the guardian and the seat ; 
Nurse of each brave pursuit, each generous aim. 
By truth exalted to the throne of fiime ; 
Like Greece in science and in liberty. 
As Athens learn'd, as Lacedemon free ; 

Ev'n now, coafess'd to my adoring eyes^ 
In awftd ranks thy gifted sons arise. 
Tuning to knightly tale his British reeds. 
Thy genuine bards immortal Chaucer leads : 
His hoary head o'erlooks the gazing quire» 
And beams on all around celestial fire. 
With graceful step see Addison advance. 
The sweetest diild of Attic elegance : 
See Chillingworth the depths of doubt explore. 
And Seldon ope the rolls of ancient lore : 
To all but his beloved embrace deny'd. 
See Locke lead Reason, his majestic bride : 
See Hammond pierce religion's golden mine. 
And spread the treasur'd stores of truth diTine* 



Digitized by VjOOQ IC 



ELEGY. 



91 



AU who to AUnoB gvn the aits of peace. 
And best the labours plann'd of letterM ease ; 
Who taught with truth, or with persuasioo mov'd ; 
Who SDiooth'd with numbers, or with sense iniprov'd; 
Who rang'd tbe powers of reason, or refin'd, 
All that adomM or hnmaniz*d the mind ; 
Each priest of health, that mix'd the balmy bowl, 
Tb rear lirail man, and stay the fleeting soul ; 
AU crowd afound, and echoing to tbe sky, 
** Hail, Oxford, bail !" with filial transport cry. 

And see yon sapient tram ! with liberal aim, 
TWas theirs newf^ns of libsrty to frame; 
And on the Gothic gloom of slsTuh sway 
To shed tbe dawn of intellectual day. 
With mild debate each musing feature glows, 
And well-weigb'd counsels mark their meaning brows. 
" Lo ! these the leaders of thy patriot line/' 
A Raleigh, Hampden, and a Somers shine. 
These from thy source the bold contagion caught, 
Tbeir future sons the great example taught : 
While in each youth th' herediUry flame 
Sdll Maaes, unextinguished and the same ! 

Nor all tbe tasks of thoughtful peace engage, 
Tb thine to form the hero as tbe sage. 
I see tbe sable-suited prince advance 
With lilies crowned, the spoils of bleeding France, 
Edward. Tbe Muses, in yon cloistered shade ^, 
Bound on his maiden thigh the martial blade ; 
Bade him the steel for British freedom draw. 
And Oxford taught the deeds that Cressy saw. 

And see, great fiither of the sacred band. 
The patriot king * before me seems to stand. 
He by tbe bloom of ^is gay Tale beguilM, 
That cbeer'd with lively green the shaggy wild, 
Hither of yore, forlorn forgotten maid, 
Tbe Muse in pcattlmg infancy convey'd ; 
Pirom Vandal rage the helpless virgm bore. 
And fix'd her cradle on my friendly shore : 
Soon grew tbe maid beneath hb fostering hand, 
Soon stream'dber blessings o'er the enligfaten*d land. 
Though simple was the ckmie where first to dwell 
She deign'd, and rude her eariy Saxou cell, 
Lo * now she hokls her state in sculptured bowers. 
And proudly fifts to Heav'n her hundred towers. 
TwBfl Alfined first, with letters and with laws, 
AdomM, as be advanc'd, his country's cause : 
He bade relent the Briton's stubborn soul. 
And sooth'd to soft society's control 
A rough untutor'd age. With raptured eye 
Elate he views his laurel'd progeny : 
Seicae he smiles to find, that not in vain 
He lbrm*d the rudiments of learning's reign : 
HiBself he marics in each ingenuous breast, 
With all the founder in the race exprest: 
Goosciotts he sees foir Freedom still surrivej 
la yon bri^t domes, ill-foted fugitive ! 
(GlorioQS, as when the goddess poured the beam 
UnsoDied on his ancient diadem ; ) 
Well-pleas'd, that at his own Pierian springs 
She rests her weary feet, and plumes her wings ; 
That here at last she takes her destined stand, 
Here deigns to linger, ere she leave tbe land. 

^ Edward tbe Black Prince, was a member of 
QaeeD*s CoU^;e ; perhaps out of compliment to 
tbe new foundation, which was denominated after 
baa mother, queen Philippe. 

* Alfred. Tbe tradition respecting the founda- 
tipnof the vmnity of Oxford by him is well known. 



ELEGY 



ON THB nSATB OP THB LATC 

FREDERIC PRINCE OF WALES. 
(written in 1751.) 

O FOR the warblings of the Doric ote, 
That wept the youth deep-whelihed in ocean's tide ! 
Or Mollaes Muse, who chang'd her magic note 
To chant how dear the laurel'd Sidney died ! 
Then should my woes in worthy strain be sung. 
And with due cypress-crown thy herse, O Frederic, 

hung. 
But though my novice-hands are all too weak 
To grasp the sounding pipe, my voice unskili'd 
The tuneful phrase of poesy to speak, 
Uucouth the cadence of my carols wild ; 
A nation's tears shall teach my song to trace [grace. 
The prince that deck'd his crown with every milder 
How well he knew to torn from flattery's shrine. 
To drop the sweeping pall of scepter'd pride ; 
Led by calm thought to paths of eglantine. 
And rural walks on Isis' tufted side ; 
To rove at large amid the landscapes still, [hill ! 
Where Contemplation sate ou Clifden's beech-clad 
How, lock'd in pure affection's golden band, 
Through sacred wedlock's unambitious wttys^ 
With even step he waik'd, and constant hand. 
His temples binding with domestic bays : 
Rare pattern of the chaste connubial knot, 
Firm in a paboe kept, as in the clay-built cot ! 
How with discerning choice, to nature true. 
He cropp'd the simple flowers, or violet. 
Or crocus-bud, that with ambrosial hue 
The banks of silver Helicon beset : 
Nor seldom wak'd the Muse's living lyre 
I'o sounds that call'd around Aonia's listening quire ' 
How to the few with sparks ethereal stor'd. 
He never barr'd his castle's genial gate. 
But bade sweet Thomson share the friendly board 
Soothinc: with verse divine the toll of state ! 
Hence fir'd, the l>ard forsook the flowery plain, 
And deck'd the regal mask, and tried the tragic strain. 



ON THE DEATH OP 

KING GEORGE THE SECOND. 
TO MR. SECRETARY PITT '. 

(WRITTBK IN 1761.) 

So stream the sorrows that embalm the brave. 
The tears that Science sheds on Glory's grave ! 
So pure the vows which classic duty pays 
To bless another Brunswick's rising rays ! 

O Pitt, if chosen strains have power to steal 
Thy watchful breast awhile from Britain's weal | 
If votive verse from sacred Isis sent 
Might hope to charm thy nianly mind, ir ^-ent 
On patriot plan:, \;hich ancient freedom drew, 
Awhile with fcnu attention deign to viev? 

* Afterwards lord Chatham. Thi«» and ;.:!•» t\-ro 
following poems close the collectioiss of Orioj J 
Verses on their respective occasions- a ,1 x:-i. 
written while the author was poetry pr^fest. . . . f . 
.tJOQle 



92 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



This ample wreath, which all th' assembled nine 
With skill united have coDSpirM to twine. 

Yes, guide and guardian of thy country's cause ! 
Thy conscious heart shall hail with just applause 
The duteoos Muse, whose haste officious brings 
Her blameless offering to the shrine of kings : 
Thy tongue, welLtutor'd in historic lore, 
Can speak her office and her use of yore : 
For such the tribute of ingenuons praise 
Her barp dispensed in Greeia's golden days ; 
Such were the palms, in isles of old renown, 
She culPd, to deck the guiltless monarch's erown ; 
When virtuous Pindar told, with Tuscan gore 
How scepter'd Hiero stained Sicilians shore. 
Or to mild Tberon's > raptured eye disclosed 
Bright Tales, where spirits of the brave repos*d : 
Yet still beneath the throne, unbribM, she sate, 
The decent handmaid, not the slave, of state ; 
Pleased in the radiance of the regal name 
To blend the lustre of her country's hme : 
For, taught like ours, she dar'd, with prudent pride. 
Obedience from dependence to divide : 
Though princes claimed her tributary lays. 
With truth severe she tempered partial praise ; 
Conscious she kept her native dignity, 
Bold as her Bights, and as her numbers free. 

And sure if e'er the Muse indulged her strains, 
With just regard, to grace heroic reigns. 
Where could her glance a theme of triumph own 
So dear to fame as George's trophied throne ? 
At whose firm base, thy stedfast soul aspires 
To wake a migh^ nation's ancient fires : 
Aspires to baffle faction's specious claim » 
Rouse England's rage, and give her thunder aim : 
Once more the main her conquering banners sweep, 
Again her commerce darkens all the deep. 
Thy fix'd resolve renews each firm decree 
. That made, that kept of yore, thy country free. 
Call'd by thy voice, nor deaf to war's alarms. 
Its willing youth the rural empire arms : 
Again the lords of Albion's cultur'd plains 
^&rch the firm leaders of their faithful swains ; 
As erst stout archers, from the farm or fold, 
Flam'd in the van of many a baron boM. 
Nor thine the pomp of indolent debate, 
The war of words, the sophistries of state; 
Nor frigid caution checks thy free design, 
Nor stops thy stream of eloquence divine : 
For thine the privilege, on few bestow'd, 
To (eel, to think, to speak, (or public good. 
In vain Corruption calls her venal tribes ; 
One common cause one common end prescribes : 
Nor fear nor fraud or spares or screens the foe. 
Bat spirit prompts, and valour strikes, the blow. 
O Pitt, while honour points thy liberal plan, 
And o'er the minister escalts the man, 
~ Isis congenial greets thy faithful sway, 
Nor scorns to bid a statesman grace her lay. 
For H» not hers, by fieUse connections drawn. 
At splendid Slavery's sorbid shrine to fown ; 
Each native effort of the fieeliug breast. 
To friends, to foes, in equal (ear, snpprest : 
TIs not for her to purchase or pursue 
The phantom fisvoura of the cringing crew : 

s Agreeably to the character given of him, 
Olymp. ii. 165. and foHowing verKt. Theton was 
tyrant of Agrigentnm ; hk victoriei an cttobimted 
m the 2d and 3d Olyinpio Odci. 



More useful toilf her studioiii boon engage^ 
And fairer lessons fill her spotless page : 
Beneatk ambition, but above disgrace. 
With nobler arts she forms the rising race : 
With happier tasks, and less refin'd pretence. 
In elder times, she woc^d Munificence : 
To rear her arched roofs in regal guii»e, 
And lift her temples neacer to the skies ; 
Princes and prelates stretch'd the social hand. 
To form, diftuse, and fix, her high command : 
From kings she claim'd, yet soom'd to seek, the price. 
From kings, like George, benignant, just, and wiae. 

Lo, this her genuine lore.— Nor thou refutse 
This humble present of no partial Mose [jouUi ^ 
From that calm bower, which nurs'd thy thougbtfol 
In the pure precepts of Athenian truth ; 
Where first the form of British Liberty 
Beam'd in full radiance on thy musing eye ; 
That form, whose mien sublime, with equal awe. 
In the same shade unUeniish'd Somers saw : 
Where once (for well she lov'd the friendly grove 
Which every classic grace had leam'd to rove) 
Her whispers wak'd sage Harrington to lieign 
The blessings of her visionary reign ; 
That reign, which, now no more an empty theme. 
Adorns Philosophy's ideal dream, 
But crowns at last, beneath a George's smile. 
In full reality thii favour'd isle. 



CM THI 

MARRIAGE OF THE KING. 

(wRrmM IN 1761.) 
TO HER MAJESTY. 

Whbk first the kingdom to thy virtues due 
Rose from the billowy deep hi distant view ; 
When Albion's isle, old Ocean's peerless pride, 
Tower'd in imperial state above the tide ; 
What bright ideas of the new domain 
Form'd the fair prospect of thy promis'd reigir ! 

And well with consckras joy thy breast mi^t best 
That Albion was ordam'd thy regal seat : 
Lo ! this the land, where Freedonf s sacred rage 
Has glow'd untam'd through many a martial age. 
Here patriot Alfred, staro'd with Danish bkxid, 
Rear'd on one base the king's the people's tnod : 
Here Henry's archers firam'd the stobbom bow. 
That laid Alanzoo's haughty helmet km; 
Here wak'd the flame, that still superior braves 
The proudest threats of Gaul's ambitioas slaves : 
Here Chivalry, item school of valour old ', 
Her noblest feaU of knightly fiune enrolPd ; 
Heroic champioos caught the clarion's call. 
And throng'd the feast in Edward's bannerHI hall ; 
While chiefe, like George, apprGv*d in worth alone, 
Unlock'd chaste Beauty's adamantine zone. 
Lo 1 the fom'd isle, whidi hails thy chosen sway. 
What fertile fields her temperate sons diqilay ! 
Where Pioperty secures the oonsckms swain. 
And guards, wlule Plenty gives, the golden grain : 

3 Trinity College, Oxford: in which also lonl 
Somers, and James Harrington, author of the 
Oceana, were educated. fV, 

> Allodmg to the institutkm of the ovder of the 
garter at Windsor by Edward IIL in 1350. 

.gitized by Google 



ON THE BIRTH OF THE PRINCE OP WALES. 



9S 



HcQce witli ripe stores her villages abound. 
Her airy downs with scattered sheep resound; 
Frfsh are her pastures with unceasing rills. 
And future naries crown her darksome hills. 
To bear her formidable glory far. 
Behold her opulence of boarded war ! 
See, from her ports a thousand banners stream ; 
On every coast her vengeful lightnings gleam ! 
Meaoiime. remote from Ruin's armed hand, 
Iq peaceful majesty her cities stand ; 
Whose splendid domes, and busy streets, declare, 
Their firmest fort, a king's parental care. , 

And O ! blest queen, if e*er the magic powers 
Of «arbled truth have won thy musing hours ; 
Here Poesy, from aweful days of yore, 
lias pour*d her genuine gifts of raptur'd lore. 
Mid oaken bowers, with holy verdure wreathed, 
lo Druid-songs her solemn spirit breathM : 
While cunning bards at ancient banquets sung 
Of pajmim foes defied, and trophies hung. ^ 

Here Spenser tun'd his mystic minstrelsy, 
And dress 'd in fairy robes a queen like thee. 
Here, boldly marked with every living hue, 
Nature's unbounded portrait ^lakespeare drew : 
Bot chief, the dreadful groupe of human woes 
The daring artist's tragic pencil chose ; 
Expbr'd the pangs that rend the royal breast, 
Tbi>se wounds that lurk beneath the tissued vest ! 
Lo! this the land, whence Milton's Muse of fire 
High soar'd to steal from Heav*n a seraph's lyre ; 
An) told the golden ties of wedded love 
Jq sacred Edeq's amaranthine grove. 

Thine too, majestic bride, the favour'd clime^ 
VThtK Sctence sits enshrin'd in roofs sublime. 
O mark, how green her wood of ancient bays 
O'er Uis' marge in many a cbaplet strays 1 
Thither, if haply some distinguished flower 
Of these mix'd blooms from that ambrosial bower. 
Might catch thy glance, and rich in Nature's hue, 
lijitwinc thy diadem with honour due ; 
If seemly gifb the train of Phebus pay, 
To deck imperial Hymen's festive day ; 
Thither thjrself shall haste, and mildly deign 
To tread with nymph-like step the conscious plain ; 
PfeasVl m the Muse's nook, with decent pride, 
To throw the scepter'd pall of state aside : 
Nor from the shade shall George be long away. 
That cbims Charlotta's love, and courts her stay. 

These are Britannia's praises. Deign to trace 
With rapt reflection Freedom's fiivourite race ! 
Bat though the generous isle, in arts and arms, 
Thus stand supreme, in Nature's choicest channs ; 
Though George and Conquest guard ber sea-girt 

throne, 
Oae happier blessing still she calls her own ; 
iod, proud to cull the fairest wreath of Fame, 
OowDi ber chief honours with a Charlotte's name. 



ON TUB BiaTH OF 

THE PRINCE OF WALES. 

(witrrm aftee tbb instaixation at Windsor^ in 

TBS SAME TBAR, 1762.) 

Impuial dome of Edward, ^ wise and brave ! 
Where warlike Honour's brightest banners wave ; 

^ Windsor Castle, buih by Edward III. 



At whose proud tilts, unmatch'd for hardy deeds. 

Heroic kings have frown'd on barbed steeds. 

Though now no rooi'e thy crested chiefe advance 

In arm'd array, nor grasp the glittering lance ; 

Though knighthood boasts the martial pomp oomore, 

That grac'd its gorgeous festivals of yore ! 

Say, conscious dome, if e'er thy marshall'd knighti 

So nobly deck'd their old majestic rites, 

As when, high thron'd amid thy trophied shrine, 

George shone the leader of the garter'd line ? 

Yet future triumphs, Windsor, still remain : 
Still may thy bowers receive as brave a train : 
For lo ! to Britain and her favour'd pair. 
Heaven's high command has sent a sacred heir ! 
Him the bold pattern of his patriot sire 
Shall fill with early fame's immortal fire : 
In life's fresh spring, ere buds the promis'd prime. 
His thoughts shall mount to virtue's meed sublime: 
The patriot sire shall catch, with sure presage. 
Each liberal omen of his opening age ; 
Then to thy courts shall lead, with conscious joy. 
In stripling beauty's bloom, the princely boy ; 
There firmly wreathe the braid of heavenly die, 
True valour's badge, around his tender thigh. 

Meantime, thy royal piles that rise elate 
With many an antique tower, in massy state. 
In the young champion's musing mind shall raise 
Vast images of Albion's elder days. 
While, as around his eager glance explores 
Thy chambers, rough with war's constructed stores, 
Rude helms, and bruised shields, barbaric spoils 
Of ancient chivalry's undaunted toils ; 
Amid the dusky trappings hung on high 
Young Edward^s sable mail shall strike his eye ; 
Shall fire the youth, to crown his riper years 
With rival Cressjrs, and a new Poitiers ; 
On the same wall, the same triumphal base. 
His owB victorious monuments to place. 

Nor can a fairer kindred title move 
His emulative age to glory's love 
Than Edward, laureate prince. In letter'd truth, 
Oxford, sage mother, school'd his studious youth : 
Her simple institutes, and rigid lore. 
The royal nursling unreluctant bore ; 
Nor shunn'd, at pensive eve, with lonesome pace 
The cloister's moonlight <chequer'd floor to trace ^ 
Nor scom'd to mark the Sun, at mattins due, 
Stream through the storied window's holy hue. 

And O, young prince, be thine his moral praise ; 
Nor seek in fields of blood his warrior bays. 
War has its charms terrific. Far and wide 
When stands th' embattled host in banner'd pride ; 
O'er the vcxt plain when the shrill clangors run. 
And the long phalanx flashes in the Sun ; 
When now no dangers of the deathfui day 
Mar the bright scene, nor break the firm array ; 
Full oft, too rashly glows with fond delight 
The youthful breast, and asks the future fight ; 
Nor knows that Horrour's form, a spectre wan, 
Stalks, yet unseen, along the gleamy van. 

May no such rage be thine : no dazzling ray 
Of specious fame thy stedfast feet betray. 
Be thine domestic glory's radiant calm, 
Be thine the sceptre wrcath'd with many a palm : 
Be thine the throne with peaceful emblems hung, 
The silver lyre to milder conquest strung ! 

Instead of glorious feats achiev'd in arms. 
Bid rising arts display their mimic charms ! 



Digitized by VjOOQ IC 



9^ 



WARTOira POEMS* 



Just to thy country's hmt, in tranquil days. 
Record the past, and rouse to future praise : 
Before the public eye, in breathing brass. 
Bid thy famM father's mighty triumphs pass : 
Swell the broad arch with haughty Cuba*8 fall, 
And clothe with Minden*8 plain th* historic hall. 
Then mourn not, Edwanl's dome, thine ancient 
boast. 
Thy tournaments, and listed combats lost ! 
From Arthur's board, no more, proud castle, mourn 
Adventurous Valour's Gothic trophies torn ! 
Those elfin charms, that held in magic night 
Its elder fame, and dimmM its genuine light. 
At length dissolve in truth^s meridian ray, 
And the bright order bursts to ])erfect day : 
The mystic round 2, begirt with bolder peers. 
On virtue's base its rescued glory rears ; 
Sees Civil Prowess mightier acts achieve, 
•Sees meek Humanity distress relieve j 
Adopts the worth that bids the conflict cease, 
And claims its honours from the cbiefe of peace. 



VERSES 

ON 



ftIR JOSHUA BI.YNOLDS*S PAINTED WINDOW. 
AT NEW COLLEGE, OXFORa 

(wanTBK IN 1782 ) 

Am, stay thy treacherous hand, forbear to trace 
Those fiiultless forms of elegance and grace ! 
Ah, cease to spread the bright transparent mass. 
With Titian's pencil, o'er the speaking glass ! 
Nor steal, by strokes of art with truth combin'd^ 
The fond illusions of my wayward mind I , 

For long enamourM of a barbarous age, ^ 
A faithless truant to the classic page ; 
Long have I lov'd to catch the simple chime 
Of minstrel-harps, and spell the fabling rhime ; 
To view the festive rites, the knightly play, 
That deck'd heroic Albion's elder day ; 
To mark the mouldering balls of barons bold. 
Ami the rough castle, cast in giant mould ; 
With Cothic manners Gothic arts explore, 
And, muse on the magnificence of yore. 

But chief, enraptur'd have I lovM to roam, 
A lingering votary, the vaulted dome. 
Whore the tall shafts that mount in massy pride, 
Their mingling branches shoot from side to side ; 
Where elfin sculptor^ with fantastic clew, 
O'er the long foof their wild embroidery drew ; 
Where Superstition with capricious hand 
In many a maze the wreathed window planned, 
With hues romantic ting'd the gorgeous pane. 
To fill with holy light the wondrous fane ; 
To aid the builder's model, richly rude, 
By no Vitnivian symmetry subdu'd ; 
To suit the genius of the mystic pile : 
Whilst as around the for retiring ile. 
And fretted shrines, with hoary trophies bung. 
Her dark illumination wide sbc flung, 

2 Arthur's round table, called sw verses before, 
" Arthur's board." Tradition considers the order 
of the Garter, as a revival of Arthur's fobled institu- 
tion of the round table. 



Witii new solemnity, the nooks pnhonif 

The caves of death, and the dim arches firtmo'd. 

From bliss long fislt unwilh'ngly we part : 

Ah, spare the weakness of a lover's heart ! 

Chase not the phantoms of my foiry dream. 

Phantoms that shrink at reason's painful gleam I 

That softer touch, insidous artist, stay. 

Nor to new joys my strugglmg breast betray ! 

Such was a pensive bard's mistaken strain.— > 
But, oh, of ravish'd pleasures why complain ? 
No more the matchless skill I call unkind. 
That strives to disenchant my cheated mind. 
For when again I view thy chaste design, 
The just proportion, and the gennine line ; 
Those native portraitures of Attic art. 
That from the lucid sur^ce seem to start j 
Those tints, that steal no glories fitim the day. 
Nor ask the Sun to lend his streaming ray : ^ 
The doubtful radiance of contending dies, 
That fkintly mingle, yet distinctly rise ; 
Twixt light and shade the transitory strife; 
The feature blooming with immortal life : 
The stole in casual foldings taught to flow. 
Not with ambitious ornaments to glow ^ 
The tread majestic, and the beaming eye. 
That lifted speaks its commerce with the sky | 
Heaven's golden emanatipn, gleaming mild 
O'er the mean cradle of the Vir^n's child ' j 
Sudden, the sombrous imagery is fled. 
Which late my visionary rapture fed : 
Thy powerful hand has broke the Gothic chain. 
And brought my bosom back to truth again ^ 
To truth, by no peculiar taste confin'd, 
Whose universal pattern strikes mankind ; 
To truth, whose bold and unresisted aim 
Checks frail caprice, and fa»hion's fickle claim ; 
To truth, whose charms deception's magic quell. 
And bind coy Fancy in a stronger spell. 

Ye brawny prophets, that in robes so rich. 
At distance due, possess the crisped nicfa ; 
Ye rows of patriarchs, that sublimely rear'd 
DiflTuse a proud primeval length of beard : 
Ye saints, who, clad in crimson's bright array. 
More pride than humble poverty display : 
Ye virgins meek, that wear the palmy crown 
Of patient faith, and yet so fiercely f^wn : 
Ye angels, that from clouds of gold recline. 
But boast no semblance to a race divine : 
Ye tragic tales of legendary lore. 
That draw devotion's ready tear no more ; 
Ye martyrdoms of unenlighten'd days. 
Ye miracles, that now no wonder raise : 
Shapes, that with one broad glare the gazer strike. 
Kings, bishops, nuns, apostles, all alike ! 
Ye colours, that th' unwary sight amaze. 
And only dazzle in the noontide blaze ! 

1 Sh* Joshua Reynolds, in bis design fbr New Col- 
lege window, imitated the famous **Notte" of 
CouTegio, in the ducal palace at Modena, wberein 
the whole light of the picture is made to prooeed 
from the body of the infimt Christ, " which" (aa 
Spenser describes a golden hnage of Cupid, F. Q. III. 
xi. 47.) ** with his own light shines." There are in 
Oxford two copies of this celebrated picture by 
Corregio ; one in Queen's College chapel by Ant. 
Kaf. Mengs ; and the other by Carlo CigMOO or 
Gen. Guise's collectKNi at ^ Ch. 

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MONODY. . . PLEASURES OF MELANCHOLY. 



95 



No Btore «be mend window*! round d'nfreoe, 
But yidd to Giccian groupes tbe shiaing sp^^. 
Lo, from tbt canvas Beaoty shifts her throne. 
Id, Picture's powers a new formation own \ 
BeboM, she ptints upon tbe cryital plain. 
With her own energy, th' expressive stain I 
The migbty niaster spreads his mimic toil 
More wide, nor only blends the breathing oil ) 
Bat calls the lioeamenU of life compleat 
From j^enial alchyroy's creative heat ; 
Obedient furms to tbe bright fusion gives, 
While in tbe warm enamel Nature lives. 

Reyookb, *tts thine, from the brood window's 
To sdd new lustre to relipous light : [height, 

Not of its pomp to strip this ancient shrine, 
Bot bid that pomp with purer radiance shine : 
\rith arts unknown before, to reconcile 
Tbe vUling Graces to the Gothic pile. 



MOKODV, 

jrsnTEK HEAR SnUTFORD UPOJI AVON. 
(publish tD IK THE EDITION OP 1177.) 

Arom thy rural vievs, thy pastures wild, 

Tbe willows that o'erhang thy twlight edge, 

Their biKighs entangling with th' embattled sedge j 

Thy brink with water}' foliage quaintly fring*d, 

Thy surface with reflected verdure ting'd; 

South me with many a pensive pleasure mild. 

But while I muse, that here the bard divine, 

Wbcw? sacred dust yoa high-arch'd iles enclose. 

Where the tall windows rise in stately rows 

Abore th' embowering shade, 

U«M-c first, at Fancy's fairy -circled shrine, 

Of daisies pied his infant oflfering made ; 

Here playful yet, in stripling years unri|>e, 

Fram''d of thy reeds a shrill and artless pipe : 

Sodden thy beauties, Avon, all are fled. 

At at the waving of some magic waml ; 

Ad holy trance my charmed spirit wings, 

And awful shapes of warriors and of kings 

People the busy mead, 

like sp^ct^c^ swarming to the wizard's hall ; 

And slowly pace, and jKiint with tri'inbling hand 

The wuiinds ill-cover'd by the purple pall. 

Before me Pity seems to stand 

A weepmg mourner, smote with anguish sore, 

To see Misfortune rend in frantic mood 

His robe, with regal woes embroider'd o*er. 

Pale Termur leads the visionary band. 

And sternly shakes his sceptre, dropping blood. 



PLEASURES OF MELANCHOLY. 

Prapcipe lugnbres 
Cantos, Melpomene ! — 

(witmii iH 1745, T»« AOTHoa's nth year, 

PCatlSHBD ANOWTMOUSLY IM 1747.) 

If orrait ofimKings, Gontomplation sage, 
Wboie grotto stands upon the topmost rock 



OfTeneriff; *mid the tenqjiestuous night, 
On which, in calmest mediation held. 
Thou hear'st with howling wmds the beating rain 
And driftmg hail descend ; or if the skies 
Unclouded shine, and thro* the blue serene 
Pale Cynthia rolls her silver-axled car, 
WhoM^ gazing stedfast on the spangled vault 
Raptor'd thou sitt'st, while murmurs indistinct 
Of distant billows sooth thy pensive ear 
With hoarse and hollow sounds; secure, self-blest. 
There oft thou listcn^st to the wild uproar 
Of fleets encountering, that in whispers low 
Ascends the rocky summit, where thou dwell'st 
Remote from man, conversing with the spheres I 
O lead me, queen sublime, to solemn glooms 
Congenial with my soul ; to cheerless shades. 
To ruin'd seats, to twilight cells and bow'rs. 
Where thoughtful Melancholy loves to muse. 
Her fav>rite midnight haunts. The laughing scenes 
Of purple Spring, where all the wanton tram 
Of Smiles and Gr|u:es seem to lead the dance 
In sportive roun^, while from their hand they show'r 
ATubrosial blooms and flow'rs, no longer charm ; 
Tempe, no more I court thy balmy breeze. 
Adieu green vales ! ye broider*d meads, adieu ! 
Beneath yon ruin'd abbey's moss-grown piles 
Oft let me sit, at twilight hour of eve. 
Where thro' some western window the pale Moon 
Pours her kmg-levell'd rule of streaming light ; 
While sullen sacred silence reigns around. 
Save the lone screechrOwVs note, who builds his bow'd 
Amid the mould'ring caverns dark and damp. 
Or the calm breeze, that rustles in the leaves 
Of flaunting ivy, that with mantle green 
Invests some wasted towV. Or let me tread 
Its ncighb'ring walk of pines, where mus'd of old/ 
The cloyster'd brothers : thro' the gloomy void 
ThU far extends beneath their ample arch 
As (in 1 pace, reUgious horrour wraps 
My soul in dread repose. But %hen the world 
Is clad in Midnight's raven colour'd robe, 
'Mid hollow charnel let me wateh the flame 
Of taper dim, shedding a livi<l glare 
O'er the wan heaps ; while airy voices talk 
Along the glimm'ring walls ; or ghostly shape 
At disUnce seen, invites with beck'ning hand 
My lonesome steps, thro' the far-winding vaults. 
Nor undclightful is the solemn noon 
Of night, when haply wakeful from my couch 
I start : lo, all is motionless around 1 
Roars not the rushing wind ; the sons of men 
And every beast in mute oblivion lie ; 
All nature's hush'd in silence and in sleep. 
O then how fearful is it to reflect, 
That thro' the still globe's awful solitude. 
No being wakes but me ! till stealing sleep 
My drooping temples bathes in opiate dews. 
Nor then let dreams, of wanton folly bom. 
My senses lead thro* flow'ry paths of joy ; 
But let the sacred genius of the night 
Such mystic visions send, as Spenser saw. 
When thro* bewild'ring Fancy's magic maze. 
To the fell house of Busyrane, he led 
Th' unshaken Britomart ; or Milton knew, 
When in abstracted thought he first conceiv'd 
All Heav'n in tumult, and tlie seraphim 
Come tow'ring, arm'd in adamant and gold. 

Let others love soft Summer's ev'ning smilei 
As listening to the distant water-fall. 



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96 



WARTON« POEMS. 



They mark the l^loshes of the streaky west ; 
I choose the pale December's fbggy glooms. 
Then, when the sullen 'shades of evening close» 
Where thro' the room a blindly-glimm'ring gleam 
The dyrag embers scatter, for remote [roof 

From Mirth's mad shon^ that thro' th' iUumin'd 
Resound with festive echo, let me sit, 
Blest with tKe lowly cricket's drowsy dirge. 
Then let my thought contemplative explore 
This fleeting state of things, the vain delights, 
The fruitless toils, that still our search elude, 
As thro' the wilderness df life we rove. 
This sober hour of silence will munask 
False Folly's smile, tliat like the dazzling spells 
Of wily Cbmus cheat th' unweeting eye 
With blear illusion, and persuade to drink 
That charmed cup, which Keason's mintage fiiir 
Unmoulds, and stamps the monster on the man. 
Eager we taste, but in the luscious draught 
Forget the poisonous dregs that lurk beneath. 

Few know that elegance of soul 4«fin'd, 
Whose soft sensation feels a quicker joy 
From Melancholy's scenes, than the dull pride 
Of tasteless splendour and magnificence 
Can e'er affi>rd. Thus Eloise, whose mind 
Had languish'd to the pangs of melting love. 
More genuine transports found, as on some tomb 
Reclin'd, she watch'd the tapers of the dead ; 
Or thro' the pillar'd iles, amid pale shrines 
Of imag'd saints, and intermingled gravFs, 
Mns'd a veil'd votaress ; than Flavia feels. 
As thro* the mazes of the festive ball. 
Proud of her conquering charms, and beauty's Maze, 
She floats amid the silken sons of dress. 
And shines the fairest of th' assembled fair. 

When azure noontide cheers the dsedal globe, 
And the blest regent of the golden day 
Rejoices in his bright meridian tower. 
How oft my wishes ask the night's return. 
That best befriends the melancholy mind ! 
Hail, sacred Night ! thou too shalt share my song! 
Sister of ebon-scepter'd Hecat, hail ! 
Whether in congregated clouds thou wrap'st 
Thy viewless chariot, or with silver crown 
Thy beaming head encirclest, ever hail ! 
What tho* beneath thy gloom the sorceress-tmin, 
Far in obscured haunt of Lapland moors. 
With rhymes uncouth the bkxxly cauldron bless ; 
Tho* Murder wan beneath thy shrouding shade 
Summons her slow-ey'd vot'ries to devise 
Of secret slaughter, ^hile by one blue lamp 
In hideous conf rence sits the lisfning band, 
And start at each low wind, or wakeftil sound : 
What tho' thy stay the pilgrim curseth oft, 
As all benighted in Arabian wastes 
He heard the wilderness around him howl 
With roaming monsters, while on his hoar head 
The black-descending tempest ceaseless beats ; 
Yet more delightful to my pensive mind 
Is thy return, than blooming Mom's approach, 
Ev'n then, in youthful pride of opening May, 
When from the portals of the saflron east 
She sheds fresh roses, and ambrosial dews. 
Yet not ungrateful is the Mom's approach. 
When dropphig wet she comes, and clad in clouds. 
While thro' the damp air scowls the louring South, 
BlaTckenrng the landscape's face, that grove and hill 
In formless vapours undistingoish'd swiin : 



Th' afflicted soDgBten of the sadden'd groves 
Hail not the sullen gloom : the waving elms 
That, hoar thro' time and raiig'd in thick array, 
Enslose with stately row some rural hall. 
Are mute^ nor echo with the clamours hoarse 
Of rooks rgoicing on their airy boughs ; 
While to the shed the dripping poultry crowd, 
A mournful tram : secure the village-hind 
Hangs o'er the crackling blaze, nor tempts the storm; 
Fix'd in th' unfinish'd furrow rests the pUiugh : 
Rings not the high wood with enliven'd shouts 
Of early hunter : all is silence drear ; 
And deepest sadness wraps the feoe of things. 

Thro' Pope's soft song tho' al 1 the Graces breathe. 
And happiest art adorn his Attic page ; 
Tet does my mind with sweeter transport glow. 
As at the root of mony trunk reolin'd. 
In magic Spenser's wiMly-warbled song 
I see deserted Una wander wide 
Thro' wasteful solitudes, and lurid heaths. 
Weary, forlorn ; than when the fated feir 
Upon the bosom bright of silver Thames 
Lanches in all the lustre of brocade. 
Amid the splendours of the laughing Sun. 
The gay description palls upon the sense. 
And coklly strikes the mind with feeble bliss. 

Ye youths of Albion's beauty -blooming isle. 
Whose brows have worn the wreath of luckless love. 
Is there a pleasure like the pensive mood, 
Whose magic wont to soothe your soften'd souls } 
O tell how rapturous the joy, to melt 
To Melody's assuasive voice ; to bend 
Th* uncertain step along the midnight mead. 
And pour your sorrows to the pitying Moou, 
By many a slow trill from the bird of woe 
Oft interrupted ; in embowering woods 
By darksome brook to muse, and there forget 
The solemn du loess of the tedious world. 
While Fancy grasps the visionary fair : 
And now no more th' abstracted ear attends 
The water's murm'ring lapse, th' entranced eye 
Pierces no longer thr9' th' extended rows 
Of thick-rang'd trees ; till haply from the depth 
The woodman's stroke,' or distant tinkling team. 
Or heifers rustling thro' the brake, alarms 
Th' illuded sense, and mars the golden dream. 
These are delights that absence drear has made 
Familiar to my soul, e'er since the form 
Of young Sapphira, beauteous as the Spring, 
When from her vi'let-woven couch awak'd 
By frolic Zephyr's hand, her tender cheek 
Graceful she lifts, and blushing from her bow'r 
Issues to clothe in gladsome-glist'ring green 
The genial globe, first met my dazzled sight: 
These are delights unknown to minds profane. 
And which alone the pensive soul can taste. 

The taper'd choir, at the late hour of pray'r. 
Oft let me tread, while to th' according voice 
The many-sounding organ peals on high. 
The clear slow-dittied chant, or varied hjmn, 
Till all my soul is bath'< in ecstasies. 
And lapp'd in paradise. Or let me sit 
Far in sequester'd iles of the deep dome. 
There lonesome listen to the sacre^ sounds. 
Which, as they lengthen through the Gothk: Tsuttiy 
In hollow murmurs reach my ravish'd ear. 
Nor when the lamps expiring yield to nigh^ 
And solitude retoms, would I iantikis^ 



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INSCRIPTIONS. 



97 



The soleinii mmtakn, bat attentWe mark 

The due clock swiogiog slow with swecpy sway, 

Measuring tinie'it fli^rht with momentary sound. 

Nor l^t me fail tu cuItirBte my mind 
With ^be wjft tbrillingt of the tragic Muse, 
Dirine Melpomene, sweet Pity's nurse. 
Queen of tt»e stately step, and flowiog pall. 
Now let Monimia mnum with streaming eyes 
Her joys incestuous, and polluted love : 
Nov let soft Juliet in the gaping tomb 
Print the last kiss on her true Romeo's lips, 
Bb lips yet reeking from the deadly draught: 
Or Jafler kneel for one forgiving look. 
Nor seldom let the Moor on D(»demone 
Pour the misguided threats of jeak>us rage. 
By soft degrees the manly torrent steals 
From my swoId eyes ; and at a brother's woe 
My big heart melts in sympathizing tears. 

What are the splendours of the gaudy court, 
Its tmsei trappings, and its pageant pomps } 
To me &r happier seems the banish'd lord. 
Amid Siberia's unrejoicing wilds 
Who pines all lonesome, in the chambers boar 
Of some high castle shut, whose windows dim 
In distant ken discover trackless plains. 
Where Winter ever whirls his icy car ; 
While still r ep eat ed objects of bis view. 
The gloomy battlements, and ivied spires. 
That crofvn the solitary dome, arise ; 
labile from the topmost turret the slow clock, 
Psr heard along th' inhospitable wastes. 
With sad-returning chime awakes new grief ; 
Ev^ he fiar happier seems than is the proud. 
The potent satrap, whom he left behind 
'Mid Moscow's golden palaces, to drowa 
Id ease and luxury the laughing hours. 

niustnoQS objects strike the gazer's mind 
With feeble bliss, and but allure the sight. 
Nor rouse with impulse quick th' unfeeling heart. 
Thos seen by shepherd from Hymettus' brow. 
What dsdal laudscapes smile ! here palmy gproves, 
Resounding once with Plato's voice, arise. 
Amid s^bose umbrage green her silver head 
Th* OD&ding olive lifts; here vine<clad hills 
Lay forth their purple store, and sunny vales 
In prospect vast their level laps pxpand. 
Amid wbone beauties glistering Athens tow'rs. 
Tho' thro' the blissful scenes Ilissus roll 
His sage-inspiring flood, whose winding marge 
The thick -wov^ laurel shades ; tho' roseate Mora 
Puur all her splendours on th' empurpled scene ; 
Yet feels the hoary hermit truer joys. 
As from the cliff, that o'er bis cavern hangs. 
He views the piles of fall'n Persepolis 
In deep arrangement hide the darksome plain. 
UnboajDded waste ! the mould'ring obelisk 
Hese, tike a blasted oak, ascends Uie clouds ; 
Here Parian domes their vaulted halls disclose 
Horrid witn thorn, where lurks th' unpitying thief. 
Whence flits the twilight-loving bat at eve. 
And the deaf adder wreathes her spotted train. 
The dwellings once of elegance and art. 
Here temples rise, amid who^e hallow'd bounds 
Spires the black pine, while thro* the naked street, 
Ckioe hapotof tradefiil merchants, springs the grass : 
Here culamns heap'd on prostrate columns, torn 
Frum their 6rm base, inaraase the mould'ring mass. 
Far as the sight can pierce, appear the spoils 
Of sonk magni6cence ! a blended Scen^ 
Of moles, fsnes, arches, domes, and palaces. 



Where, with his brother Morronr, Ruin sits. 
O come then. Melancholy, queen of thought I 
O come with saintly look, and stedfast step. 
From forth thy csve embowef^i with mournful yew. 
Where ever to the curfeu's solemn sotmd 
List'ning thou sitt'st, ahd with thy cypress bind 
Thy votary's hair, and spal him for thy son. 
But never let Ruphrosyne l>eguile 
With toys of wanton mirth ray fixed mind. 
Nor in my path her prira rose-garland cast 
Tho' *mid her train the dimpled Hebe bare 
Her rosy bosom to th' eoamour'd view ; 
Tho' Venus, mother of the Smiles and Loves, 
And Bacclius, ivy-crown'd, in citron bow'r ' 
W^ith her on necUr-sireamin^ fruitage feast : 
What tho' 'tis hers to calm the lowering skies. 
And at her presence mild th' embattled cloudy 
Dispenw in air, and o'er the face of Heav'ji 
New day diffa-^ive p!eam at her approach ? 
Yet are these joys that Melancholy gives, 
Than all her witless revels happier far ; 
Th&^e deep-felt joys, by Contemplation taught.' 

Then ever, beauteous Contemplation, hail J 
From thee began, auspicious maid, my song, ' 
With thee shall end ; for thou art fairer far 
Than are the nymphs of Cirrha's mo^ssy g^t ' ; 
To loftier rapture thou canst wake the thought. 
Than all the fabling p4^t*s boasted pow*rs. 
Hail, queen divine ! whom, as tradition tells. 
Once in his evening walk a Dniid found. 
Far in a hollow glade i)f Mona's woods ; 
And piteous bore with hospitable hand 
To the close shelter of his Qaken bow'r. 
There soon the sage admiring mark'd the dawn 
Of solemn musing in your pensive thought j 
For when a smiling babe, you lov'd to lie 
Oft deeplv list»ning to the rapid roar 
Of wood-hung Meinai «, stream of Druids old. 



INSCRIPTIONS. 



INSCRIPTION IN A HERMITAGE. . 

AT ANSLEY HAr.L IN WARWICKSHTRI. 
(PUBUSHED IN 1717.) 

Beneath this stony roof reclin'd 
I sooth to peace my pensive mind ; 
And while, to shade my lowly cave, 
Embowering elms their umbrage wave ; 
And while the maple dish is mine. 
The beechen cup, unstain'd with wine $ 
I scOni the gay licentious crowd. 
Nor heed the toys that deck the proud. 

Within my limits lone and still 
The blackbird pipes in artless trill ; 
Fast by my couch, congenial guest. 
The wren has wove her mossy nest ; 
"From btisy scenes, and brighter skies. 
To lurk with innocence, she flies : 
Here hopes in safe repose to dwell. 
Nor aught suspects the sylvan cell. 

1 The Muses. The town and plain of Cirrha, or 
Cyrrha, are iu Phocis, at the'foot of Mount Par- 
nassus. 

* Menai, or Meneu, the s»rait which divides tb« 
isle of Ang1ei»ey from Caernarvonshire. 
H 



J 



98 



WART0N3 POEMS. 



At mom I take my cnsiom'd iband. 
To mark how buds yoo shrubby mound. 
And every opebing primrote count, 
That trimly paints my bloommg mount : 
Or o'er the sculptures, quaint and rude. 
That grace my gloomy solitude, 
I teach in winding wreaths to strajr 
Fantastic ivy's gadding spray. 
At eve, within yon studious nook, 
1 ope my brass-embossed book, 
Pourtray*d with many a holy deed 
Of martyrs, crownM with heavenly meed : 
Then as my taper waxes dim. 
Chant, ere I sleep, my measur*d hymn ; 
And at the close, the gleams behold 
Of parting whigs bedropt with gold. 
While such pure joys my bliss create,, 
Who but would smile at guilty state } 
Who but would wish his holy lot 
In calm Oblivion's humble grot ? 
Who but would cast his pomp away. 
To take my staff, and amice gray > ; 
And to the world's tumultuous stage 
Prefer the blameless hermitage 1 



INSCRIBED 



lEAUTlFUL GROTTO NEAR THE WATER «. 
(?vBLisirBP IN 1753.) 

Tat Graces sought in Yonder str^uR 

T6 cool the fervid day. 
When Lovers malicious godhead camey 

And stole their robes away. 
Proud of the theft, the little god 

Tbehr robes bade Delia wear ! 
While they, asham'd to stir abroad. 

Remain sll naked here. 



IN9CRIPT10S 

OfMM A 

CALM AND CLEAR SPRING IN BLENHEIM 

GARDENS 3. 

Hstx quench your thirst, and mark in me 
An emblem of tme charity ; 
Whb, while my bounty I bestow. 
Am neither heard nor seen to flow. 

1 Gray clothing, from the Latin verb amioio^^ 
to clothe. 

s This inscriptkm is founded on the following in 
the Antfaok>gta : 

, De balmo in Smynrn : 

TifiMt, ai l yii i w f Bvftm mtm^ tpatHHU, l\\ six. 11. 

The idea it not nnoommon with the Greek epigram- 
matists ; see partk^ularly Anthol. IV. xv. 6. and 
six. IS. 
3 This iatc^itkm has been tttifimted to Dr. 



EPITAPH 



ON AfR. HEAD. 

Ou spare his youth, O stay thy threatening hand^ 
Nor break too soon young wedlock's early blhid ! 
But if hb gentle and ingenuous mind. 
The generous' temper, an<l the taste refin'd, 
A souT imoonscious of corruption's stain. 
If leamjng, wit, and genius plead in vain, 
O let the mourning bride, to stop thy spear. 
Oppose the meek resistance of a tear !. 
And when to sooth thy force his virtues foil. 
Let weeping faith and widow^ love prevail ! 



TRANSLATIONS 

AND 

PARAPHRASES. 
JOB, 

CHAPTSa XXXIZ. 

(poBftisirtD IN 1750, m tvb stuobict.) 

DscLAaa, if heav'nly wisdom bless thy tongue. 
When teems the mountain-goat with promised 

young; 
The stated seasons tell, the month explain. 
When fpels the bounding hind a mother's pain ; 
While, in th' oppressive agonies of birth. 
Silent they bow the sorrowing head to earth ? 
Why crop their lusty seed the verdant food ? 
Why leave their dams to search the gloomy wood ? 

Say whence the wild-ass wantons o'er the plain. 
Sports uncontroPd, unconscious of the rein ? 
'TIS his o'er scenes of solitude to roam. 
The waste his house, the wilderness his home : 
He scorns the crowded city's pomp and noise. 
Nor heeds the driver's rod, nor hears his voice ; 
At will on ev'ry various verdure fed. 
His pasture o'er the shaggy clifiii is spread. 

Will' the fierce unicorn obey thy call, 
Enslav'd to man, and patient of the &all ? 
Say, will he stubborn stoop thy yoke to bear. 
And thro' the forrow drag the tardy share } 
Say, canst thou think, O wretch of vain belief. 
His lab*ring limbs will draw thy weighty sheaf; 
Or canst thou tame the temper of his blood 
With faithful feet to trace the destin'd road ; 
Who paints the peacock's train with radiant eyef , 
And sJl the bright diversity of dies ? 
Whose hand the stately ostrich has supply'd 
With glorious plumage, and her snowy pride ? 
Thoughtless she leaves amid the dusty way 
Her eggs, to ripen in the genial ray ; [blood. 

Nor heeds, that some fell beast, who thirsts for 
Or the rude foot, may crush the iliture brood. 
In her no love the tender offspring share. 
No soft remembrance, no maternal care, 

Phanuef Bacon, follow of Magdalen College, author 
of the Kite and of one or two pieces in the Oxford 
Sausage, but the insertion of it in the edition 
of Walton's Poems m 1791, amnged by himself 
and partly printed before his death, may be consi- 
derod as asoeitaining him for the author. 



TRANSLATIONS. 



99 



for God has iteeVd her trarelenting breast. 
Nor feeling sense, nor instinct mild impress'd. 
Bade ber the rmpid-rashing fcteed despise. 
Outstrip the rider's rage, and tow'r amidst the skies. 
Didst thoQ the hoTM with strength and beanty deck ? 
Hast thou in thunder ckjthM his nemms neck ? 
Will he, lik« groveling grasshoppers afraid, 
SUrt at each sound, at er'ry breeze dismay'd ? 
A ckMid of fire bis lifted nostrils raise. 
And breathe a glorious terrour a« tbey blaze. 
He paws indignant, and the valley spurns. 
Rejoicing in his mi^ht, and for the battle bums. 
When quivers rattle, and the frequent spear 
Flies flashing, leaps his heart with languid fear ? 
5Wallowing with fierce and greedy rage the grourol, 
" Is this,'* be cries" the trumpet's warlike sound?" 
Ea^er he scents th« battle from afar. 
And all the roin^^ling thunder of the war. 
Fli« the fierce hawk by thy supreme command. 
To f^nck soft climates, and a southern land ? 
Wlio bade th' aspiring eagle mount the sky, 
And build her firm aerial nest on high ? 
On the bare cliff, or mountain's shai?^ steep, 
Her fortress of defence she dares to keep ; 
Thence darts her radiant eye's pervading ray. 
Inquisitive to ken the distant prey ; 
Seeks with her thirsty brood th' ensanguin'd plain, 
There bathes her beak in blood, companion of the 
slain. 



A PASTORAL 

IN THE MANNER OP SPENSER. 

raoM TBvocarrvs >. 

IXyVLL. XX. 

As late I strove l^ncilla's lip to kiss. 

She with dtscurtesee reprov'd my will ; 

Dost thou, she said, afSect so pleasant bliss, 

A nmple shepherd, and a losell s vile ? 

Not Paacy's hand should join my courtly lip 

To thine, as I myself were fast asleep. 

As thus she spake, full proud and boasting lasse. 

And as a peacocke, pearke, in dalliance 

She bimgly tamed her ungentle face, 

Aod all disdaining ey'd my shape askaunce : 

Bot I did blush, with grief and shame y blent ^, 

Like morning-rose with hoary dewe besprent 

Tdl me, my fellows all, am I not fair ? 

Has fell enchantress blasted all my charms ? 

Whilom mine head was sleek with tressed lia3rre. 

My langbtog eyne did shoot out love's alarms : 

E'en KiUe did deemen me the fairest swain. 

When erst I won this girdle on the plain. 

My lip tri^ vermll was embellished. 

My bagpipes notes kmd and delicious were. 

The' mift- white lily, and the rose so red, 

JXd on my face depeinten lively cheere, 

' Uns is not a translatkHi, but rather a para- 
pbraidc nnitatioa of the 20thldyllium of Theocritus. 

The sCaaza is the same with that in Spenser's 
5bc|^ienrs Oilendar, Jannary and December. 

< A good'fbr-noUMng feUow. 



My voice as soote as monnting larke did shrill. 
My look was blithe as Marg'ret's at the mill. 
Bot she forsooth, more fair than Madge or Kate, 
A dainty maid, did deign not shepherd's love : 
Nor wist what Thenot * told us swains of late. 
That Venus sought a shepherd in a grove ; 
Nor that a heav'niy god, who Phoebus hight *, 
To tend bis flock with shepherds did delight. 
Ah! 'tis that Venus, with accurst despight. 
That all my dolour and my shame has made ! 
Nor does remembrance of her own delight 
For me one drop of pity sweet persuade ! 
Aye hence the glowini; rapture may she miss. 
Like me be scom'd, nor ever t;iste a kiss ! 



FROM HORACE, 
Book iii. Go. 13. 
Vb wave9, that pushing fall with purest stream. 
Bland usian fount ! to whom the products sweet 
Of richest vines beinn /, i 
And fairest ilow'rs of J^pring ; 
To thee a chosen victim will I kill, 
A goat, who, wanton in lascivious youth, 
Just blooms with budding horn, 
And destines future war, 

Elate in vainest thought : but ah ! too soon 
His reeking blood with crimson shall pollute 
Thy icy-flowing tloo«l, 

And tinge tliy chrystal clear. 
Thy sweet recess the Sun in mid-day hour 
Can ne'er invade : thy streams the laboor'd ox 
Refresh with cooling draught, 
And glad the wand'ring herds. 

Thy name shall shine with endless honour grac'd, 
While on my shell I sing the hanging oak. 
That o'er thy cavern deep 
Wi^ves his imbowering head. 



HORACE, 
Book iiL On. 18. 



AFTVi TRB MANKBa OF MILTON. 

Faunus, who lov'st to chase the ligbt-fbot nymphi^ 
Propitious guard my fields and sunny fiirm. 
And nurse with kindly care 
The promise of my flock. 

So to thy pdw'r a kid shall yearly bleed. 
And the full bowl to genial Venus flow ; 
And on thy rustic shrine 

Rich odours incense breathe : 
So thro' the vale the wanton herds shall bound. 
When thy December comes, and on the green 
The steer in traces loose 
With the free village sport : 

No more the Inmb shall fly th' insidions wolf. 
The woods shall ^ihed their leaves, and the glad hind 
The ground where once he dug. 
Shall beat in sprightly dance. 

* The name of an old shepherd in Spenser's ^titp. 
Cal. February. 

* Who was called Phoebuv^ | 

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WARTON'S P<^MS. 



ODES. 



T« fti* rat i^arrOf »aj fi lULrairvnfH isum 

Tfti it fAiXufA^kXti laptu rm, Xlt&M Tlatea, 

TiBOCAiT. Epigr. 



ODE L 

TO SLEEP. 

(published in 1777.) 

Ow this my penstre pillow, geotle Sleep ! 
Descend, in all thy downy plumage drest : 
Wipe with thy wing these eye« tliat wake to weep, 
And place thy crown of poppies on my breast. 

steep my senses in eblivion's balm» 

And sooth my throbbing pulse with lenient band ^ 
This tempest of my boiling blood becalm I ^- 
Despair grows mild at thy supreme ooaunand. 

Yet ah ! in vain, familiar with the gloom, ' 
And sadly toiling through the tedioos night, 

1 seek sweet slumber, while that virgin bkiom. 
For ever hovering, haunts my wretched sight. 
Nor would the dawning day my sorrows chanUr : 
Black mkkiight aud the blaze of noon alike 

To me appear, while with uplifted arm 

Death stands prepar'd, but still delays, to ftrike^ 



ODE IL 
THE HAMLET. 

warrTBM in which wood iorbst. 

• (PUBLISHID IN 1777.) 

Thb hinds how Uest, who ne'er begml'd 
To quit their hamlelfs tewtton wild ; 
Nor baunt the crowd, noittempt the mam. 
For splendid care, abd guilty gain I 

When morning^ bntfght-tiadisr'd beam 
Strikes their lew thatch with slanting gleam« 
They rove abroad in ether bine, 
To dip tbe scylbe In fragrant dtw ; 
The sheaf to bind, the beech to fiiU, 
That nodding shades a craggy dell. 

Midst gloomy glades, in wwvbles dear. 
Wild nature's sweetest notes they hear : 
On green untrodden banks they view 
The hyacinth's neglected hue : 
In their lone haunts, and woodhuid roundlif 
They spy the squirrel's airy bounds : 
And startle from her ashen spray. 
Across the glen, the screaming jay : 
Each native charm their steps explore 
Of SoIitude^s sequestered store. 

For tbera the Moon with cloodiees ray> 
Homtti, to iUume their homevrard way : 
Their weary ^irtts to relieve. 
The meadows incense breathe, at eve. 
No riot mars the simple fiure, 
Tl^t o'er a gUaunaring hearth they ihm': 
But when the curfeu's measured roar 
Daly, the darkenii^ vaUcys ^^jew. 



Has echoed from the distant town^ 
They wish no beds of cygnet-down. 
No tropbiod canopies, to close 
Tbdr drooping eyes in quick repcKe. 

Their little sons, who spread the bloon 
Of health around the clay-built room. 
Or tbrougli tbe primros*d coppice stray. 
Or gambol ia the new-mown bay ; 
Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine. 
Or drive afield the tardy kine ; 
Or hasten from the sultjy hill. 
To loiter at the shady rill ; 
Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest. 
To rob the raven's ancient nest. 

Their humble porch with honied ftow'ra 
The curling woodbine's shade imbow'rs : 
From tbe small garden's tbymy mound 
Their bees in busy swarms resound : 
Nor fell Disease, before his time, 
Hastes to consume life's golden prime: 
But when their temples long have wort 
The silver crown of tresMs hoar ; 
As studious still calm peace Uxkeep^ 
Beneath a flowery turf they sleep. 



ODE IIL 

WRITTEN NT VALE-ROVAL ABBEY » W 

CHESHIRE. 

(POBLISHBO IN 1777.) 

As ereriing slowly spreads Ms mantle hoar. 

No ruder sounds the bounded valley fill. 

Than the faint din, from yonder sedgy shore. 

Of rushing waters, and the OHMrmuring mi|l. 

How sunk the scene, where doister'd leisuieiqitt'^ 

Where ii(ar-7oni Edward fMJd his aarfiil vow; 

And, lavish of magnifioenee,- diffiit'd 

His crowded spires o'er the broad monnt^n's bcow t 

The golden fens, that o'er the tvrratt strown, 

Quick-jj^andng to the 9an, w^ld nosio ittade, 

Are reft,iand every battleoient o'eiyrow a 

With knotted thorns, and tbe taU sapling's ibadti. 

The prickly thistle sheds its ptumy crest. 
And matted nettles shade the crumbling mass. 
Where shone the pavement's surfk^e smooth, iA|»rQtt 
With rich reflection of the storied glass. 

1 A monastery for Qstercian monks, founded b)r 
king Edward I. about the year 1300, ia c qps aq u a^ y , 
of a vow, which he made when in danger of being 
shipwrecked, during his relam from a etmmdm^ 
It was first founded at Demhall in the same oomii- 
ty, in the year 1270, 54th of the reign of Henry UL, 
But afterwaiNis Edward I. in the S7th year of bis 
own reign, translated it to a place on tbe river 
Wever, not fer distant, to which he on this ooca* 
sion gave the name of The Vale-royal, and granted 
to the abbot and convent several parishes, lands. 
&C. adjcMning. After the dtssohition it cane into 
the femily of HoksraH, firon whom it was pur- 
chased about tbe middle ef the 17th oentnnr by! 
the lady Mary Chdmley ; and ia hn immy^ I 
believe that k still < ' 



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flere liardy cldefbum slept in prood repose, 
SaUimely shrmM in gorgeous imagery ; 
And through the lessening iles, in radiant rows. 
Their consecrated banners bung on high. 
There oxen browze, and there the sable yew 
Through the dun void displays its baleful glooms ; 
And sbe<ls in lingering drops un^enial dew 
O'er the fbrgottea graves and scattec'd tombs. 
By the slow c)ock» in stately 'measurM chime. 
That from the massy tower tremendous tolPd, 
No more the plowman counts the tedious time. 
Nor distant shepherd peiis his twilight fold. 
Nigh o*er the trackless heath at midnight seen, 
No more the windows, raogM in loop; array, 
(Where the tall shaft and fretted nook between 
Thick ivy twines) the taper'd rites betray. 
Er^n now, anid the wavering ivy-wreaths, 
(While kindred thoughts the pensive sounds inspire) 
When the weak breeze in many a whisper breathes, 
I seem to listen to the chanting quire. 

As o'er these shitter'd towers intent we muse. 

Though rear'd by Charity *s caprici6us zeal. 

Yet can oar breasts soft Pity's sigh refuse^ 

Or conscious (Candour's modest plea conceal ? 

For though the sorceress, Superstition blind. 

Amid the pomp of dreadful sacrifice. 

O'er the dun roofo, to cheat the tranced mind. 

Oft bade her visionary gleams arise : 

Though the rain hours unsocial Sloth beguird. 

While the still cloister's gate Oblivion locked ; 

And thro* the chambers pale, to slumbers mild 

Wan Indoleoce her drowsy cradle rock'd : 

Yet hence, hithronM In venerable state. 

Proud Hospitality di^ns'd her store : 

Ah, see, beneath yon tower's unvftulted gate, 

Foriom she sits upon the brambled floor 1 

Her ponderous vase, witii Gothic pourtraiture 

£mboss*d, no more with balmy moisture flows ; 

Mid the mo'd shards o'erwhelmM \\\ dust obscure, 

No more, as erst, the golden goblet glows. 

Sore beat By storms m Glory's arduous way. 
Here might Ambition muse, a pilgrim sage ; 
Here raptur'd see religion's evening ray 
Gild the calm walks of his reposing age. 

Here ancient Art her daedal fancies play'd 
Id the quaint mazes of the crisped roof ; 
In mellow glooms the speaking pane array'd, 
And rang'd the cluster'd column, massy proof. 
Here Learning, guarded from a barbarous age, 
Hover'd awhiU, nor daHd attempt the day ; 
But patient trac'd upon the pictur'd page 
The holj legend, or heroic lay. 
Hitiier the solitary minstrel came 
An boDOor'd gnest, while the grim evening sky 
Hung lowering, and around the social flame 
Tan'd his bold harp to tales of chivalry. 

Thus sings the Muse, all pensive and alone ; 
Nor sooms within the deep fiine's inmost cell, 
To pluck the gray moss from the mantled stone, 
Some holy founder's mouldering name t:> spell. 
Thus smgs the Muse :— <yet partial as she sings. 
With food regret surveys these ruin'd piles : 
And with lair images of ancient things 
Tha cafthe banPfe gbfoqnioas osind beguiles. 



But much we pardon to th' ingennous Muse ; 
Her fairy shapes are trick'd by Fancy's pen : 
Severer Reason forms far 6ther views. 
And scans the scene with philosophic ken. 
From these deserted domes new glories rise \ 
More useful institutes, adorning man, 
Manners enlarged, and new civilities, 
On fi-esh foundations build the social plan. 
Science, on ampler plume, a bolder flight 
Kssays, escap'd from Superstition's shrine j 
While freed Religion, like primeval light 
Bursting from chaos, spreads her warmth divine. 



OBE IV, 



SOLITUDE AT AN INK. 

(WBlTTail MAT 15, 1769.) 

Opt upon the twilight plain. 

Circled with thy shadowy traia, 

While the dove at distance coo'd. 

Have I met thee. Solitude ! 

Then was loneliness to me 

Best and true society. 

But ah ! how alterM is thy mien 

In this sad deserted scene ! 

Here all thy classic pleasures cease. 

Musing mild, and thoughtful peace ; 

Here thou com'st in sullen mood, 

Not with thy fantastic brood 

Of magic shapes and visions airy 

Beckon'd from the land of Fairy : 

'^^ld the melancholy void 

Not a ))ensive charm enjoy'd ! 

No poetic being here 

Strikes with airy sounds mine ear ; 

No converse here to foncy cold 

With many a fleeting form I hold. 

Here all inelegant and rude 

Thy presence is, sweet Solitude. 



ODE V, 
SFNT TO MR. UPTON 

OK HIS EDITION OF THE FAESIB QUEENS '• 

(published in 1777.) 

As oft, reclin'd en CherwelPs shelving shore, 
I trac'd romantic Spenser's moral paga 
And sooth 'd my sorrows with the dulcet lore 
Which Fancy fabled in her elfin age ; 
Much would I grieve, that envious Time so soon 
O'er the lov'd strain had cast his dim disguise ; 
As lowering clouds, in April's brighter noon, 
Mar the pure splendours of the purple skies. 
Sage Upton came, from every mystic tale 
To chase the gloom that hung o'er fairy ground : 
His wisard band unlocks each guarded vale, 
And opes each flowery forest's magic bouhd. 

> In the library of Trinity College, Oxford, there 
is a copy of Urry's Chaucer, on Uie first leaf of 
which is. the following memorandum.' Notulas 
manuscriptas adjecit Joannes Upton, Pnebemlarius 
Ecclesiaj Rofltnsis. Cujus a Muj^ajo rodtmptus est 
iste liber, 7'. Wartoiu 

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Thus, never knight with mortal arms assay'd 
The castle of proud Busyrane to quell, 
Till Bfitomart her beamy shield difplay'd. 
And broke with golden spear the mighty spell : 

Tlie dauntless maid with hardy step explor*d 

Each room, anrayM in glisterinfl^ imagery ; 

Axid thro* th' enchanted chamber, richly stor*d. 

Saw Cupid's stately maske come sweeping by. — 

At this, where'er in distant region sheen, 

She roves, embowered with many a spangled bougb. 

Mild Una, lifting her majestic mien, 

Braids with a brighter wreath her rsudiant brow. 

At this, in hopeless sorrow drooping long. 

Her painted wings Imagination plumes ; 

Pleas'd tliat her laureate votary's rescued song 

its native charm and genuine grace resumes. 



ODE VI. 
THE SUICIDE >. 

BsMfiATH the beechj whose branches bare, 

Smit with the 1ightning*s livid glans, 
Ccrhang the craggy road. 

And whistle hollow as they wave ; 

Within a solitary g^r^ve, 
A slayer of himself holds his accurs'd abode. 

Lower*d the grim mom, in murky dies. 

Damp mists involved the scowling skies. 
And dimm'd the struggling day ; 

As by the brook, that lingering laves 

Yon rush-grown moor with sable waves. 
Pull of the daiit resolve he took his sullen way. 

I marked his desultory pace. 

His gestures strange, and varying face. 
With many a muttered sound ; 

And ah 1< too late aghast I viewed 

The reeking blade, the hand embni'd ; 
He fell, and groaning graq>'d in agony the ground. 

Full many a melancholy night 

He watch*d the slow return of light ; 
And sought the powers of sleep. 

To spread a momentary calm 

O'er his sad couch, and in the balm 
Of bland oblivion's dews his bummg eyes to steep. 

Full oft, unknowing and miknown. 

He wore his endless noons alone. 
Amid th' autumnal wood : 

Oft was be wont, in hasty fit. 

Abrupt the aociial board to quit. 
And gaze witli eager glance upon the tumbling flood. 

Beckoning the wretch to torments nek. 

Despair, for ever m his view, 
A spectre pale, appear'd : 

While, as the shades of eve arose, 

And brought the day's unwekx>me cl()ce, 
More horrible and huge her giant-shape she rear'd. 

> I am well informed that an opinion, which has 
prevailed, of this ode having been occasioned by the 
death of Chatterton, is not founded on fact 
Chatterton destroyed himself by swallowing arsenic 
in water. Not indeed that this circumstance would 
be decisive against his being the subject of it : but 
I know from indisputable authority that be was not 
Mant. 



" Is this," mistakeO'Scom will cry, 
" Is this the youth whose genius high 

Could build the genuine rhyme ? 
Whose bosom mild the favouring Mum 
Had stor'd with all her ample views, . 
Parent of fairest deeds, aud purposes sublime." 

Ah ! from the Muse that bosom mild 
By treacherous uiagic was bcguiPd, 

To strike the deathful blow : 
She fill'd his soft ingenuous mind 
With many a feeling too refin'd, 
And rous'd to livelier pangs his wakeful sense of woe. 

Though doom'd hard penury to prove. 

And the sharp stings of hopeless love ; 
To griefs congenial prone. 

More wounds than nature gave he knew. 

While misery's form his fimcy drew 
In dark kleal hues, and horrours not its ofwn. 

Then wish not o'er his earthy tomb 

The tialeful nightshade's luiid bloom 
To drop Its deadly dew : 

Nor oh 1 forbid the twisted thorn. 

That rudely binds his turf fbrlom, 
^nth qpring's green-swelling buds to vegetate anew. 

What though no marble-piled bust 

Adorn his desolated dust. 
With speakhig sculpture wrought ? 

Pity diaU woo the weeping Nine, 

To build a viskmary shrine, [bfoaglit. 

Hung wiih nofoding flowers, from foiry regioiis 

^^liat though refbs'd each chanted rite } 

Here viewlos mourners riiall delight 
To touch the shadowy shell : 

And Pistrarch's harp, that wept the doom 

Of Laura, lost in early bloom. 
In many a pensivepause shall seem to ring his knell. 

To sooth a lone, unhallowed shade. 

This votive dirge sad duty paid. 
Within an ivied nook : 

Sudden the half'-suuk orb of day 

More radiant shot its parting ray. 
And thus a cherub-voice ray charm'd aUentioD took. 

'* Forbear, fond bard, thy partial praise ; 

Nor thus for guilt in specious lays 
The wreath of glory twine : 

In vain with hues of gorgeous glow 

Gay Fancy gives her vest to flow, [confine. 

Unless Truth's matron-hand the floating folds 

" Just Heaven, man's fortitude to prove, 

Permits through life at large to rove 
The tribes of hell-bom woe : 

Yet the same power that wisely sends 

life's fiercest ills, indulgent lends 
Religion's golden shield to break th' embattled Ibe. 

Her aid divine had luH'd to rest 

Yon foul self-murthcrer's throbbing breast. 
And stay'd the rising storm : 

Had bade the sun of hope appear 

To gild his darken'd hemiq;>here. 
And give the wonted bloom to nature's blasted flbraL. 

" Vain man ! 'tis Heaven's prerogative 

lb take, what first it deign'd to give. 
Thy tributary breath : 

In awful emctation plac'd. 

Await thy diwro, nor impious haste [death.** 
To pluck from Cod's right hand his instniiBciitv oC 

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ODE& 



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ODE VIL 
SENT TO A FRIEKD «, 

•V ail LVATIIVG A FATOURm VILLAGE IN HAMPSHIRE. 
(WRtmil IN 1750. PUELItOEP IK 1177.) 

Ah OMMim, thoa lor'd retreat ! No moFe 
ShRll claitic steps thy scenes explore ! 
When mom's pale rajs but fointly peep 
CHsr yonder oak-ciown*d airy steep, 
Who now shall climb its brows to view 
Hie length of landscape, e^'er new. 
Where Summer fliags, in careless pri^e. 
Her varied vesture &r and wide I 
Who mark, beneath, each village-charm, 
Or grange, or dm- encircled farm : 
The flinty dove-cote's crowded roof, 
Watch'd by the kite that sails aloof: 
The tofted pines, whose umbrage tall 
Dnrfceos the long-deserted hall : 
The veteran beech, that on the plain 
GoUeeCs at eve the playful train : 
The eot that smokes with early fire, 
The kw-roof 'd file's embosom'd spire ! 

Who DOW shall indolently stray 
thoqgh the deep forest's tangled way ; 
Plett>d at his customed task to find 
The well known hoary-tressed hind, 
That toils with feeble hands to glean 
Of wither'd boagbs bis pittance mean! 
Who mid thy nooks of hazle sit. 
Lost hi some melanch^y fit ^ 
And listening to the raven's croak. 
The distant flail, the fiilling oak ! 
Who, through the sunshine and the shower. 
Descry the rainbow.painted tower ? 
Who, wandering at return of May, 
Qrtch the first cuckow*s vernal lay ? 
Who musing waste the summer hour, 
Where high o'er-arching trees embower 
The grassy lane, so rarely pac'd. 
With azure flow'rets idly grac'd ! 
UuDOtic'd now, at twilight's dawn 
Returning reapers cross the lawn \ 
Nor food attentkm loves to note 
The wether's bell from folds remote : 
While, own'd by no poetic eye, 
Thy pensive evenmgs shade the sky ! 

fW lo ! the Bard who rapture found 
In every rural sight or sound ; 
Whose genius warm, and judgment chaste. 
No chaim of genuine nature pass'd \ 
Who felt the Muse's purest fires. 
Est from thy fevour'd baunt retires : 
Who peopled all thy vocal bowers 
With shadowy shapes, and airy powers. 

Behold, a dread repose resumes, 
As ent, thy sad sequester'd glooms ! 
ftom the deep dell, where shaggy roots 
Fringe the rough brink with wreathed shoots, 

1 To his brother, Dr. Joseph Warton, who at the 
tioM of this ode being written, 1750, was ^ust 
lesmDg Ids rsskleiioe at Wynslade, near Basing- 
Adbty and gomg abroad with Charles duke of 
BoHoo. Hie fim Monet contains an allusion to 
UKfameereat 



Th' unwilling genius flies forlorn, 

His primrose chaplet rudely torn. 

With hollow shriek the nymphs fbi'sake 

The pathless copse and hedge-row brake : 

Where the delv'd inountain*s headlong side 

Its chalky entrails opens wide, 

On the green summit, ambush'd high. 

No loncrer Echo loves to lie. 

No pearl-crown'd maids with wily look. 

Rise begkoning from the reedy brook. 

Around the glow-worm's glimmering bank. 

No Fairies run in fiery rank ; 

Nor brush, half-seen, in airy tread 

The violet's unprinted head. 

But Fancy, from the thickets brown, 

The glades that wear a conscious frown» 

The forest-oaks, that, pale and lonoi 

Nod to the blast with hoarser tone, 

Rough glens, and sullen waterfalls. 

Her bright ideal eflspring calls. 

So by some sage enchanter's spell^ 
(As old Arabian fablers tell) 
Amid the solitary wild, 
Luxuriant gardeus gaily smil'd: 
From sapphire rocks the fountains stream'd. 
With gulden fruit the branches beam'd ; 
Fair forms, in every wondrous wogd. 
Or lightly trip|>'d, or solemn stood \ 
And oft, retreating from the view, 
Bctray'd, at distance, beauties new : 
While gleaming o'er the crisped bowers 
Rich spires aiose, and sparkling towers. 
If bound on service new to go. 
The master of the magic show. 
His transitory charm withdrew. 
Away th' illusive landscape flew : 
Dun clouds obscar'd the groves of gold, 
Blue lightning smote the blooming moulds 
In visionary glory rear'd. 
The gorgeous castle disap^pear'd ; 
And a bare heath's unfruitful plain 
Usurp'd the wisard's proud domain. 



ODE VllL 

MORNING. 

THE AUTHOR CONFINED TO <:0LLBGE. 



Scribimus inclusi.- 



Pers. Sat 1. vcr. 13. 



(written in 1745, bis 17th year, published in 
1750, in the student.) 

Once more the vernal Sun's ambrosial beams 

The fields as with a purple robe adorn : 
CherweU, thy sedgy banks and glist'ring streams 

All laugh and sing at mild approach of morn ; 
Thro' the deep groves I hear the chanting birds. 
And thro' the clover'd vale the various-lowing 

herds. 
Up mounts the mower from his lowly thatch. 

Well pleas'd the progress of the spring to mark, 
The fragrant breath of breezes pure to catch. 

And startle from her couch the early lark ; 



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More gooulne pleasnre soothes his tranquil breast, 
Than higti-tbronM kings can boast, in eastern glory 
drest. 

The pensive poet thro* the green-wood steals, 

Or treads the viliow'd marge of fnurmuriog brook, 
Or climbs the steep ascent of airy hills; 

There sits him down beneath a branching oak, 
Whence various scenes, and prospects wide below. 
Still teach his musing mind with fancies high to glow* 
But f nor with the day awake to bliss, 

(Inelegant to me lair Nature's face, 
A blank the beauty of the morning is. 

And grief and darkness all for light and grace;) 
Noi* bright the son, nor green the meads appear. 
Kor colour charms mine eye, nor melody mine ear. 
Me, void of elegance and manners mild, 

With leaden rod, stem Discipline restrains ; 
Stifi' Pedantry, of learned Pride the child, 

My rovins genius binds in Gothic chains ; 
Nor can the cluister'd Muse expand her wing, 
Nor bid these twilight roofr with her gay carols ring. 



ODE IX K 



COMPLAINT OF CHERWELL K 

(wftrrrsN in 1761. publishbd, as rr now stahos, 
IK 1777.) 

All pensive from her osier-woven bowV 
Cherwell arose. Around her darkening edge 
Pale eve began the steaming mist to pour, 
And breezes fonn'd by fits the rustling sedge : 
She rose, and thus she cried in deep despair, 

And tore .the rushy wreath that boond her stream- 
ing hair. 
" Ah ! why," she cried, " should Isis share alone 
The tributary gifts of tuneful fame ! 
Shall every song her happier influence own. 
And stamp with partial praise her favourite name ? 
Whije I, alike to those proud domes allied, 

Nor hear the Muse's call, nor boast a classic tide. 
" No chosen son of all ^on fabling band 
Bids my loose locks their glossy length diffuse ; 
Nor sees my coral -cincturM stole expand 
Its folds, besprent with Spring's unnumber'd hues : 
No poet builds my crotto's dripping cell, [shelK 

Nor studs my crystel throne with many a speckled 
" In his' vase if Fancy's eye discern 
Majestic towers embossed in sculpture high ; 
Lo ! milder glories mark my modest urn, 
The simple scenes of pastoral imagery : 
What though she pace sublime, a stately queen? 

Mine is the gentle grace, the meek retiring mien. 

1 This ode first appeared in the Oxford collection 
of verses on the death of George II. in the name of 
John Chichester, brother to the earl of Donegall, 
Gent Com. of Trih. Coll. It ^as afterwards p\ib- 
lished in the first edition of Warton's Poems, with 
variations in general not important 

« One of the rivers at Oxford. 



** Proud nymph, tince late the Muse tby tri- 
umphs sung. 
No more with mine thy scomldl naiads play, 
(While Cynthia's lampo'erthe broad vale is hung,) 
Where meet our streams, indnlgmg short deUty ; 
No more, thy crown to braid, thou deign'it to take 

My dress-bom flowers, that float m many a shady 
lake. 
" Vain bards ! can Isis win the raptur'd soul. 
Where Art each wilder watery charm invades f 
Whose waves, hi measnr'd volumes taught to roll, 

- Or stagnant sleep, or rush in white cascades : 
Whose banks with echoing industry resound, 

Fenc'd by the foam-beat pier, and torrent-bravmg 
mound. 
" Lo I here no commerce spreads the fervent toil. 
To pour pollution o*er my virgin tide j 
The freshness of my pastures to defile. 
Or bruise the matted groves that fringe my side : 
But Solitude, on this sequestered bank. 

Mid the moist lilies sits, attir'd in mantle danik. 
'* No ruder sounds my giwng herds aifrigiity 
Nor mar the milk-maid's sobtary soog : 
The jeakras halcyon wbeeU her hnmble flight 
And hides her emerald wing my reeds amoi^; 
All unalarm'd, save when tiie genial May f b«y. 

Bids wake my peopled shores, and rears the ripea'd 
" Then scorn no more tho nnfirequented scene '; 
So to neif not^ shall my coy Echo string 
Her lopely harp. Hither the brow serene,^ 
And the sk>w pace of Contemplation bring : 
Nor call in vain inspiring Ecstasy 

To bid her visions meet the finenzy-relling eye. 
" Whatever the theme ; if unrequited love 
Seek, all unseen* his bashful griefs to breathe ^ 
Or Fame to bolder flints the bosom move, 
Waving aloft the glorious epic wreath ; 
Here 1^1 the Muses : from the busy throng 

Remote, where Fancy dwells, and Nature pronqg^i 
tbesong.*^ 



ODE X 

THE FIRST OF APRIL. 
(ruBLisHBD iw 1777.) 

With daUiance rude young Zephyr woot 
Coy May: Full oft with kind excuse 
The boisterous boy the fair denies. 
Or with fi, scornful smile complies. 

' Instead of the two stanzas which noir conehide 

this ode, there were originally the fblkiwing, which 

allude to the particular occasion of it : 

Then hither hMte, ye youths, whose duty bihigs 

To George's memory the votive dirge ; 

Lo ! pensive Peace shall tune your solemn strings. 

To saddest airs along my lonely verge $ 

Here Grief with holy musings may converse 

In sounds, that best shall greet the glorious hero's 

herse. 
» 

Or if auspicimis themes your harps would owb. 

In airy visions here shall meet yonr eye 

Fair scenes of bliss : a blooming monarch's throiae 

Hung with the wreaths of righteous victory. 

The decent trophies of domestic ease, 

A people's filial love, and all l^e palmsiof peace. 

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ODES. 



105 



Miodfil of (tmster past, 
And shrinking at the nortfaero blast. 
The sleety stoitn retunung still. 
The iDoraiDg lioar, and evening chill ; 
ReluctMOt comes the timid Spring. 
Scarce a bee, with airy rtog. 
Murmurs the blossomed boughs around. 
That clothe the garden's southern bound : 
Scarce a sickly straggling flower 
Decks tlie rough castle's rifted tower : 
Scarce the hardy primrose peeps 
rrom the dark dell's entangled steeps ; 
0*er the fields of waving broom 
Sknrly shoots the ^.t^lden bloom : 
And, but by fits, the furze-dad dale 
Tinctures the transitory gale. 
While from the shrubbery's naked maze^ 
Where the vegetable blaze 
Of FlorrnS brightest 'broidery shone. 
Every cbcquer'd charm is flown ; 
Sare that the lilac hangs to view 
Its bursting gems in clusters blueJ 

Scant akmg the ridgy land 
The beans their new-bom ranks expand : 
The firesb-tum'd soil with tender blades 
Thinly the sprouting barley shades : 
Fnntnng the forest's devious edge, / 

Half rob*d appears the hawthorn hedge ; 
Or to the distant eye displays 
Weakly green its budding sprays. 

The swallow, for a moment seen. 
Skims in baste the village green : 
From the gray moor, on feeble wing. 
The screaming plovers idly spring: 
The butterfly, gay-painted soon. 
Explores awhile the tepid noon ; 
And fondly tnists its tender dies 
To fickle suns, and flattering skies. 

Fraught with a transient, frozen shower, 
If a dood should haply lower. 
Sailing o'er the landscape dark. 
Mute on a sudden is the lark ; 
fiat when gleams the Sun again 
O^er the pearl-besprinkled plain. 
And from behind his wat<*ry vail 
Loob through the thin descending hail ; 
She mounts, and, lessening to the sight. 
Salute: the blithe return of light. 
And high her tuneful track pursues 
Mid the dim rainbow's scatter'd hues. 

Where in venerable rows 
Widely waving oaks enclose 
The moat of yonder antique hall, 
Svarm the rooks with clamorous call ; 
And to the toils of nature true. 
Wreath their capacious nests anew. 

Musing through the lawny park. 
The k»ely poet loves to mark 
Hov various greens in foint degrees 
Tmjretbe tall groupes of various trees ^ 
While, careless of the changing year. 
The pine cerulean, never sere. 
Tower? distinguiah'd from the rest. 
And proudly vaunts her winter -vest 

Within some wbispering'oder isle. 
Where Glym's low hanks neglected smile * ; 

*The Glym is a small river in Oxfordshire, 
flowing through Warton's parish of Kiddington, or 



And each trim meadow still retains 
The wintry torrent's oozy stams : 
Beneath a willow, long forsook. 
The fisher seeks his custom'd nook ; 
And bursting through the crackling sedge. 
That crowns th6 current's cavem'd edge. 
He startles from the bordering wood 
The bashfiil wild duck's early brood. 

O'er the broad downs, a novel race. 
Frisk the lambs with fauHering pace, 
,And with eager bleatings fill 
The foss that skirts the bcacon'd hill. 

His free-born vigour yet unbroke 
To lordly man's usurping yoke, 
The bounding colt forgets to play. 
Basking beneath the noon-tide ray. 
And stretch'd among the daisies pied 
Of a green dingle's sloping side : 
While far beneath, where Nature spreadf 
Her boundless length of level m^uls. 
In loose luxuriance taught to stray 
A thousand tumbling rills inlay , 

With silver veins the vale, or pass 
Redundant through the sparkling grass. 

Yet, in these presages rude, 
Midst her pensive solitude. 
Fancy, with prophetic glance, 
Sees the teeming months advance ; 
The field, the forest, green and gay. 
The dappled slope, the tedded hay ; 
Sees the reddening orchard blow, 
The harvest wave, the vintage flow ; 
Sees June un'bid his glossy robe 
Of thousand hues o'er all the globe; 
Sees Ceres grasp her crown of com. 
And Plenty load her ample horn. 



ODE XL 

ON THE 

APPROACH OF SUMMER. 



Te, dea, te fiigiunt venti, te nubila coeli, 
Adventumque tuum ; tibi suaveis daedala telluf 
Summittit tlores ; tibi rident aequora ponti ; 
riacatumque nitet diifuso lumine coelum. 

LOcasT. 



(fublished IK 1T53.) 

Hence, iron-scepter'd Wipter, haste 

To bleak Siberian waste ! 
Haste to thy polar solitude ; 

Mid cataracts of ice, [rude. 

Whose torrents dumb are stretch'd In fragments 

Cuddington, and dividing it into upper and lower 
town. It is described by himself in his account of 
Cuddington, as a deep but narrow stream, winding 
through willowed mcaidows, and abounding in trouts, 
pikes, and wild-fowl. It gives name to the village 
of Glymtop, with adjoins to KiddiDfton. r 

.oogle 



106 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



From uMuny an airy preeipioe» 
Where, ever beat by sleety sbowhriy 
Thy gloomy Gothic caitle tofir'n. 
Amid whose honriiog iles and halls. 
Where no gay sun-ieam paints the wall^ 
On ebon throne thon lov'st to shrood 
Thy brows in many a murky dond. 

E'en now, before the vernal heat, 
Sollen I see thy train retreat : 
X Thy ruthless host stem Enrus guides, 
That on a ravenous tiger rides, 
Dim-figur*d on whose robe are shown 
Shipwredu, and villages o*erthrowi>: 
Grim Auster, drcpping all with dew. 
In mantle clad or waichet hue : 
And Cold, like Zeinblan savage seen, ' 
Still threatening with his arrows keen : 
And next, in furry coat embost 
With icicles, his brother Frost 

Winter larewell ! thy forests hoar. 
Thy frozen floods delight no more ; 
Farewell the fields, so bare and wild ! 
But come thou rose-cheekM cherub mild. 
Sweetest Summer ! haste thee here, 
Once more to crown the gladden'4 y^tf* 
Thee April blithe, as long of yore, 
Bermudas* lawns he frolick'd o'er. 
With musky nectar-trickling wing, 
(In the new wo^*s first dawning spring.) 
To gather balm of choicest dews. 
And patterns fidr of various hues. 
With which to paint, in changeful die. 
The youthful Earth's embroidery ; 
To cull the essence of rich smells 
In which to dip his new-bom bells ; 
Thee, as he skim'd with jmiions fleet. 
He found an infant, smiling sweet; 
Where a tall citron's shade imbrown'd 
The soft lap of the fragrant ground. 
There on an amaranthnie bed, 
Thee with rare nectarine fruits he fU ; 
Till soon beneath his forming care. 
You bloom'd a goddess debonair 
And then he gave the blessed isle 
Aye to be sway*d beneath thy smile : 
There plac'd thy green and gcassy shrine, 
With mjrrtle bower'd and jefsamine : 
And to thy care the task assign*d 
With quickening hand, and nuftnre kind. 
His roseate infont^rirths to rear, 
Till Autumn's mellowing reign appear. 

Haste thee, nymph ! and hand in hand. 
With thee lead a buxom band ; 
Bring fontastic-iboted Joy, 
With Sjpcftt, that yeltow-tressed boy : 
Leisure, that through the balmy sky 
Chases a crimson butterfly. 
Bring Health, that loves m eariy dawn 
To meet the milk^maidon the lawn ; 
Bring Pleasure, rural nymph, and Peace, 
Meek, cottage-loving shepherdess ! 
And that sweet stripling. Zephyr, bring, 
Light, and forever on tha #rog. 
Bring the dear Muse, that loves to lean 
On river-margins, mossy green. 
But who is she, that bears thy train, 
Pacbg light tht velvet plain } 



The pale pink binds her auburn hair. 
Her tresses flow with pastoral air ; 
Tis Bfay, the Grace— confiest she stands 
By branch of hawthorn m her hands : 
Lo! near her trip the lightsome Dews, 
Their wings all ting'd in iri«-hues ; 
Witl^ whom the pow*rs of Flora pky. 
And paint with pansies all the way. 

Oft when thy season, sweetest queen. 
Has dress'd the groves in Uv>ry green ; 
When in each foir and fertile field 
Beauty begins her bow*r to build ! 
While Even'mg, veiPd in shadows brown. 
Puts her matron-mantle on, 
And mists in q>reading streams convey 
More fifesh the fumes of new-shora hay : 
Then, goddesb, guide my pilgrim feet 
Contemplation hoar to meet. 
As slow he winds in musefol mood. 
Near the rush'd marge of Chenrell's flood ; 
Or o'er old Avon's magic edge. 
Whence Shakespeare cull'd the spiky sedge. 
All playfiil yet, in 3rears unripe. 
To nrame a shrill and simple pipe. 
There thro* the dusk but dimly seen. 
Sweet ev'ning-objects intervene : 
His wattled ootes the shepherd plants. 
Beneath her elm the milk-maid chantsi 
The woodman, speeding home, awhile 
Resti him at a riiady stile: 
Nor wants there fragrance to dispense 
Refreshment o'er my soothed sense ; 
Nor tangled woodbine's balmy bloom. 
Nor grass besprent to breathe perfume : 
Nor lurking wild-thyme's ^licy sweet 
To bathe in dew my roving fe^ : 
Nor wants there note of Phifomel, 
Nor sound of distant-tinkling bell : 
Nor lowings fiunt of herds remote. 
Nor mastiflPs bark from bosom'd cot s 
Rustle the breezes lightly borne 
O'er deep embattled ears of com : 
Round ancient elm, with humming noiie. 
Full loud the chafifer-swarms rejoice. 
Meantime, a thousand dies invest 
The raby chambers of the West ! 
That all aslant the village tow'r 
A mild reflec te d radiance pour. 
While, with the level-streaming rays 
Far seen its arched windows blaze : 
And the tall grove's green top is dight 
In russet tints, and gleams of light : 
So that th6 gay scene by degrees 
Bathes my blithe heart in ecstasies; 
And Fancy to my ravish'd sight 
Pourtrajrs her kindred visions bright. 
At length the parting light subdues 
My soften'd soul to calmer views. 
And fainter shapes of pensive joy. 
As twilight dawns, my mind empAsiy, 
Till from the path I fbndly stray 
In musings lap'd, nor heed the way ; 
Wandering through the landscape still. 
Till Melancholy has her fill ; 
And on each moss-wove border damp 
The glow-worm hangs his fiury lamp. 

But when the Sun, at noon-tkle luxir. 
Sits throng in his highest tow'r; 



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ODES. 



107 



Me, bcart-rejoicing goddess, lead 

To tbe tano*d haycock in the mead : 

Ti> mix in rural mood among 

The nymphs and swains, a busy throng; 

f>r, as the iepid odours breathe, 

Tbe russet pilet to lean beneath : 

IVre as my listless limbs are thrown 

On couch more soft than palace down ; 

I listeo to the busy sound 

Of mirth and toil that hum^ around ; 

And i^ec the team shrill-tinkling pass. 

Alternate o'er the furrow'd grass. 

But ever, after summcr-sbowV, 
When the bright Sun*s returning powV, 
W.th laughing beam has chas*d the storm, 
And cheer'd reriving Nature's form ,• 
By sweet-brier hedges, bath'd in dew, 
lit me my wholesome path pursue ; 
There issuing forth the frequent snail 
Wean the dank way with slimy trail. 
While, as 1 walk, from pearled bush 
Tbe sunny-sparkling drop 1 brush ; 
And all tbe landscape fair I view 
dad in robe of fresher hue : 
And so loud the black-bird sings, 
That &r and near the valley riogs. 
From shelter deep of shaggy rock 
Tl»e shepherd drives his joyful flock ; 
Aom boweriug beach the mower blithe 
With new>bom vigour grasps the scythe; 
While o'er the smooth unbounded meads 
His last &int gleam the rainbow spreads. 
But ever against restleis heat. 
Bear me to the ruck-arcird seat, 
0*er nhose dim mouth an ivyM oak 
Hangs nodding from the low-browM rock ; 
Haunted by that chaste nymph alone. 
Whose waters cleave the smcotheil stone ; 
Which, as they gush upon the ground. 
Still Kratter misty dews around ; 
A rustic, wild, grotesque alcove, 
Its side with mantling woodbines wove ; 
Cool as the cave where Clio dwells. 
Whence Helicon's fresh fountain wells ; 
Or noun-tide grot where Sylvan sleeps 
lu hoar Lycaeum's piny steeps. 

Me, goddess, in such cavern lay. 
While all without is scorchM in day ; 
Sore sighs the weary swain, bcnentli 
His withering hawthorn on the heath ; 
The drooping hedger wishes eve. 
In vain, of labour short reprieve ! 
Meantime, on Afric's glowing sands, 
Smote with keen beat, tbe travMler stands : 
Low sinks hb heart, while round his eye 
Measures the scenes that boundless lie, 
NVer yet by foot of mortal worn, 
Where Thirst, wan pilgrim, walks forlorn. 
How does be wish some cooling wave 
To slake his lips, or limbs to lave ! 
And thwks, in every whisper low, 
He hears a bursting fountain flow. 

Or bear me to yon antique wood, 
Dim temple of sage Solitude ! 
There within a nook most dark, 
Where none my musing mood may mark, 
Let me m many a whu^per'd rite 
Tbe genius old of Greece hnrite. 



With that fair wreath my brows to bind. 
Which for his chosen imps he twin'd. 
Well nuitur'd in Pierian lore. 
On clear llissus' laureate shore. 
Till high on waving nebt reclin'd. 
The raven wakes my tranced mind I 

Or to the forest-fringed vale. 
Where widow'd turtles love to wail. 
Where cowslips, clad in mantle meek, 
"Nod tlieir tall heads to breezes weak: 
In the midst, with sedges gray 
Crown'd, a scant riv'let winds its way. 
And trembling thro' tlie weedy wreaths. 
Around an oo/.y freshness breathes. 
P*er the solitary green, 
Nor cot, nor loitering l^ud is seen : 
Nor aught alarms the mute repose, 
S^ve that by fits an heifer lows : 
A scene might tempt some peaceful sage 
To rear him a lone hermitage ; 
Fit place his pensive eld might chuse 
On virtue's holy lore to muse. 

Yet still the sultry noon t* appease 
Some more romaiitip scene might please j 
Or fairy bank, or magic lawn. 
By Spenser's lavish pencil drawn : 
Or bow'r in Vallombrosa*s shade. 
By legendary pens pourtray'd. 
Haste, let me shroud from painful light, 
On that hoar hill's aerial height. 
In solemn state, where waving wide. 
Thick pines with darkening umbrage hide 
The rugged vaults, and riven tow'rs 
Of that proud castle's painted bow'rs. 
Whence Hardyknute,a baron bold. 
In Scotland's martial days of old. 
Descended from the stately feast. 
Begirt with may a warrior guest. 
To quell the pride of Norway's king. 
With quiv'ring lance and twanging string. 
As thro' the caverns dim I wind. 
Might I that holy legend find. 
By Fairies spelt in mystic rhymes. 
To tench inquiring later times. 
What open force, or secret guile, 
Dash'd into dust the solemn pile. 

But when niUd Morn in safiron stole 
First issues from her eastern goal. 
Let not my dnt^ feet fail to climb 
Some breezy summit's brow sublime. 
Whence Nature's universal face 
Illumin'd smiles with new>bom grace ; 
The misty streams that wind below 
With silver-sparkling lustre glow ; 
The groves and castled clifls appear 
Invested all in radiance clear ; 
O ? every village charm beneath f 
The smoke that mounts in azure wreath ! 
O beauteous, rural interchange ! 
The simple spire, and elmy grange I 
Content, indulging blissful hours. 
Whistles o'er the fragrant flow'rs. 
And cattle, rous'd to pasture new. 
Shake jocund frooi their sides the dew* 

Tis thou, alone, O Summer mild. 
Canst bid me carol wood-notes wild : 
Whene'er I view thy genial scenes ; 
Thy waving woods, cmbroider'd greens j 



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108 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



What fires within my bosom wake» 
Vow glows my mind the reed to takfe ! 
What charms like thine the Muse can call, 
With whom 'tis youth and laughter all ; 
Witii whom each field 's a paradise. 
And all the glohe a bow'r of bliss ! 
With thee, conversing, all the day, 
I meditate my lightsome lay. 
These pedant cloisters let me leave. 
To brcatlie my votive song at eve, 
In valleys, where mild whispers u^ 
Of shade and stream, to court the Muse ; 
While wand'ring o'er the brook»s dim verge, 
-1 hear the stock dove's dying dirge. 

But when life's busier scene is o'er^ 
And age shall give the tresses hoar, 
I'd fly soft Luxury's marble dome, 
And make an humble thatch my home. 
Which sloping hills aroand enclose. 
Where many a beech and brown oak grows ; 
Beneath whose dark and branching bow'^n, 
Its tides a iar-fam'd river poors ^ 
By Nature's beauties taught to please, 
Sweet Tusculane ' of rural ease J 
Still grot of pace 1 m lowly shed 
Who lores to rest her gentle head. 
For not the scenes of Attic art 
Can comfort care, or sooth the heart : 
Kor burning cheek, nor wakeful eye,^ 
For gold and Tyrian purple fly« 

Thither, kind Heav'n, in pity lent. 
Send me a little, and content ; 
The faithfol friend, and cheerful night, 
^The social scene of dear delight : 
The conscience pure, the temper gay. 
The musing eve, and idle day. 
^Give me beneath cool shades to srt, 
^Kapt with the charms of classk: wit : 
To catch the bold heroic flame,^ 
That built immortal GrsBcia's fame. 
Kor let me fail, meantime, to raise 
The solemn song to Britain's praise : 
To spurn the shepherd's simple reeds. 
And paint heroic ancient deeds : 
To chant famM Arthur's magic tate. 
And Edward, stem in sable mail ; 
Or wand'ring'Brutus' lawless doom s. 
Or brave Bcmduca, scourge of Rome. 

^ Tuseulanum, or Ager T^sculanvm, the country 
about Tusculuro, where Cicero had a villa, to which 
be used to retire from the labours of the bar, to 
relax his mind in the company of a few select 
friends, and to pursue his philosophical researches. 

s Brutus, according to Geoffrey of Monmouth, 
was son of Sylvius, grandson of Ascanins, and great 
grandson of JEneas. Having accid)entally killed his 
fether in. the chase, he was banished by hb kindred 
from Italy into Greece; where he delivered his 
countrymen the Tnjans from the bondage of Pan- 
drasus ; and having made a treaty with him, and 
married his daughter Innogen, left Greece with the 
Trcgans in a fleet of 324 sail, in search of a new 
country ; and after wandering about some time, in 
the course of which he met with Corineos in Tuscany, 
with whom he joined forces, at lenath arrived at 
Totness in Devonshire. Cornwall by lot fell to 
Corineus3 and Brutus iilmself reigoed over the 



O ever to sweet Poesy 
Let me live true votary ! 
She shall lead me by the band. 
Queen of sweet smjles, and solace Uand ! 
She from her precious stores shall shed 
Ambrosial flow'rets o'er my head : 
She, from my tender youthful cheek. 
Can wipe, with lenient finger mee^, 
The secret and unpitied tear. 
Which still I drop in darkness drear. 
She shall be my blooming bride ; 
With her, as years successive glide, 
('11 hold divinest dalliance. 
For ever held in holy trance. 



ODE XIL 

THE CRUSADE. 

(published IV 1777.) 

ADVBBTISCMBirr. 

King Richard the first, celebrated for his achiere- 
ments in the Crusades, was no less distinguished 
for his patronage of the Provencial mmstrels, and 
his own compositions in their species of poetry. 
Returning from one of his expeditions in the holy 
land, in disgoise, he was hnprisoned in a castle of 
Leopold duke of Austria. Hb favourite minstrel, 
Blondel de Nesle, having traversed all Germany in 
search of his master, at length came to a castle, 
in which he found there was only one prisoner, and 
whose name was unknown. Suspecting that he 
had made the desired discovery, he seated himself 
under a window of the prisoner's apartment; and 
began a song, or ode, which the king and himself 
had formerly composed together. When the 
prisoner, who was king Richard, heard the song, be 
knew that Blundel must be the singer : and when 
Blondel paused about the middle, the king b^an 
the remainder, and completed it The foUowiog 
ode is supposed to be this joint composition of the 
minstrel and king Richard. W, 



Bound for lioly Palestine, 
Nimbly we brush'd the level brioe. 
All in azure steel array'd ; 
O'er the wave our weapons play'd. 
And made the dancing billows glow ; 
High upon the trophied prow, 
Many a warrior-minstrel swung 
His sounding harp, and boldly song : 

" Syrian virgins, wail and weep, 
English Richard ploughs the deep ! 
Tremble, watchmen, as ye spy 
From distant towers, with amuoos eye. 
The radiant range of shield and laooe 
Down Damascus' hills advance : 

island, the name of which he changed from Albion 
to Britain, 84 years, when he died and was buried 
in a city built by hinuelf, called Troja nova, after- 
wards Trinovantom, on that which it now the site 
of London* 



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ODES. 



109 



From SioD^ turrets at aiar 

Yc km th« march of Europe^ warl 

Saladio, thou paynim king, 

From Albion*^ isle revenge we bring ! 

Go Acoii*8 s^piry citadel^ 

Thouch to the gale thy Imnncrs swell, 

PKtiir'd witU the silver Moon ; 

England shall end tby glory soon 1 

la vaiQ« to break our firm array, 

Thy brazen drums hoarae discord bray : 

Those sounds our rising fury fan : 

Euglish Richard in tb^ van. 

On tj victory we go, 

A munting infidel the foe." 

filoodel led the tuneful band, 
And swept the wire with glowing band. 
Cyprus, frum her rocky mound, 
AnJ Crete, with pmy verdure crown'd, 
Far along the smiling main 
Echoed thf prophetic strain. 

Soon we kiss*d the sacred eartli 
That gave a murdered Saviour birth ; 
Thea with ardour fresh endu'dy 
Thu5 the solemn song renew'd. 

" Lo, the toilsome voyage past. 
Heaven's favoured hills appear at last ! 
Otject of our holy vow, 
We tread the Tyriau valleys now. 
From Carmel's alpond shaded steep 
We feel the cheenng fragrance creep: 
O'er Eagaddi's shrubs of balm 
Waves the date>empurpl*d palm : 
See Lebanon's aspiring bead 
Wide his immortal umbrage spread ! 
Hail Calvary, thou mountain boar. 
Wet with our Redeemer's gore ! 
Ye trampled tombs, ye fiines forlorn. 
Ye stones, by tears of pilgrims worn; 
Your ravished honours to restore. 
Fearless we climb this hostile shore ! 
And thou, the sepulchre of God 1 
By mocking pagans rudely trod. 
Bereft of every awful rite, 
Aod qnench'd thy lamps that beamed 10 bright ; 
for tbee, from Britain's distant coast, 
Ld, R)chard leads his fiuthful host ! 
Aloft in his heroic hand, 
Bbzinf , like the beacon's brand. 
O'er the fiir-afirighted fields, 
Besi^less Kalibum ^ he wields. 
Prood Saracen, pollute no more 
Hie shrines by martyrs built of yore ! 
FrcND each wild mountain's trackless crown 
lo vain thy gloomy castles frown : 
Tby battering engines, huge and high, 
lo vain our steel-clad steeds defy ; 
And, rolling m terrific state, 
Oq giant- wfaeeb harsh thunders grate. 
When eve has hush'd the buaczing camp, 
Amid the moon-light vapours daimp. 
Thy necromantic forms, in tub. 
Haunt us on tlie tented plain : 

> Kalibum is the iwofd of king Arthur ; which 
n the monkish historians say, came into the posses- 
son of Richard I. and was given by that monarch, 
in the Crusades, to Tancred king of Sicily, as a royal 
present of inestimable value, about the year 1190. 
SeetbefoUowhigode. IT. 



We bid the spectre-shapes ataont, • 
Ashtaroth, and Termagaunt ! > 
With many a demon, pale of hue, 
Doom'd to drink the bitter dew 
That drops fi[om Maron's sooty tree. 
Mid the dread grove of ebony. 
Nor magic charms, dot fiends of Hell, 
The Christian's holy courage queU. 

Salem, in ancient majesty 
Arise, and lift thee to the sky ! 
Soon on thy battlements divine 
Shall wave the badge of Constantlne. 
Ye barons, to the Sun unfold 
Our cross with crimson wo^ and gold I'* 



ODE XIIL 

THE GRAVE OF KINO ARTHUR. 

(roiLISHBD IN 1777.) 



AOVERTISBMSIVT. 

King Henry the second, having undertaken aa 
expedition into Ireland to suppress a rebellion 
raised by Roderic king of Connaught, commonly 
called O'Connor Dunn, or the brown monarch of 
Ireland, was entertained, in his passage through 
Wales, with the songs of the Welsh bards. The 
subject of their poetry was king Arthur, whose 
hii^tdry had been so disguised by ^bulous inven- 
tions, that the place of his burial was in general 
scarcely known or remembered. But in one of 
these Welsh poems sung before Heni;y', it wat | 
recited, that king Arthur, after the battle of Camlaa 
in Cornwall, was interred at Glastonbury Abbey, 
before the high altar, yet without any external 
mark or memorial. Afterwards Henry visited the 
abbey, and commanded the spot, described by the 
bard, to be opened : when digging near twenty 
feet deep, they found the body, deposited under- 
a large stone, inscribed with Arthur's name. This 
is the ground-work of the following Ode : but, for 
the better accommodation of the story to our pre- 
sent purpose, it is told with some slight variations 
firom the Chronicle of Glastonbury. The castle of 
Cilgarran, where this discovery is supposed to have 
been mrde, now a romantie ruin, stands on a rock 
descending to the river Teivi in Pembrokeshire j 
and was built by Roger Montgomery, who led the 
van of the Normans at Hastings. W, 

Stately the fAst, and high the cheer : 
Girt with many an armed peer. 
And canopied with golden pall. 
Amid Cilgarran's castle hall. 
Sublime in formidable state. 
And warlike splendour, Henry sate ; 
Prepar'd to stain the briny flood 
Of Shannon's lakes with rebel blood. 

3 Ashtaroth is mentioned by Rfdton as a general 
name of the Syrian deities : Par. Lost. i. 42'2. And 
Termagaunt is the rame given in the old romance 
to the god of the Saracens. See Percy's Refiques, 
vqI. i. p. 74. 

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110 



WARTON'S POEIVIS. 



ninmmiog the tkulted roof, 
A thoanod torcra JamM aloof: , 

fWmi massy cups, with golden gleam 
Sparkled the red metheglm's stream : 
To grace the gorgeous festiral, 
Akmg the lofty-wmdow'd hall^ 
The storied tapestry was hung : 
With minstrelsy the taftert rung 
Of harps, that with reflected light 
From the proud gallery glitter*d bright : 
While gifted bards, a rt^ throng, 
(From distant Mona, nnrse of song, 
From Teivi, fringed with umbrage brown, 
From Eivy's vale ', and Cader's crown «, 
From many a shaggy precipice 
That shades leme's hoarse abyss. 
And many a sunless solitude 
Of Radnor^ inmost moontains rude,) 
To crown the banquet*s solemn close. 
Themes of British glory chose ; 
And to the strings of various chime 
Attempered thus the &blbg rhyme. 

" O'er Comwairs clife the tempest roar'd,' / 
High the screaming sea-mew soared ; 
On Tmtaggel's ^ topmost tower 
Darksome fell the sleety shower ; 
Round the rough castle shrilly sung 
The whirling blast, and wildly flung 
On each tall rampart's thundering skle 
The surges of the tumbling tide : 
When Arthur rang'd his red-cross ranks 
On conscious Ckmlan's * crimson*d banks : 
By Mordred's fitithless guile decreed 
Beneath a Saxon spear to bleed ! 
Yet in vain a paynim foe 
Arm*d with fate the mighty blow ; 
For when he fell an elfin queen ^ 
All in secret, and unseen, 
0*er the fainting hero threw 
Her mantle of ambrosial blue ; 
And bade lier spirits bear him far. 
In Merlin's agate-axled car. 
To her green isle's enameli'd ^cep, 
Far in the navel of the deep. 

> The EIvy is a small rirer, which rising in 
Denbighshire, and, flowing tiirongh a beautiful and 
rich valley, foils into thcClwyd in Flintshire, not Ihr 
from St. Asaph, to which, in tl^c language of tht; 
country, it gives the name of Lhau-Elwy, or the 
church on the Elwy. 

2 Kader is tlie name of several mountains in 
Wales, so called either from their resemblance to a 
chair (k^dair) ; or because they have been forti- 
fied places, or were considered as naturally impreg- 
nable, the British word kader , signifying a fort or 
bulwark. 

3 Tintaggel or Tmtadgel castle, wliere king Ar- 
thur is said to have been bom, and to have chiefly 
resided. Some of its huge fragments still remain, 
on a rocky |>ctiiiisula cape, of a prodigious decli- 
vity towards the sea, and almost inaccessible from 
the 'land side, on the northern coasts of Corn- 

vaii. rr. 

* On the nor^ coast of Corrwall, not far from 
Tlntaggcl : called by Camden the river Alan, 
Cambalan, and Camel. 

^ The name by which she is known in the old 
romances is Morgaio le &y, or the faery. 



O'er his wounds she sprinkled dew 
From flowen that in Arabia grew ; 
On a rich enchanted bed 
She pillowM his majestic head ; 
O'er bis brow, with whispers bland. 
Thrice she wav'd an opiate wand ; 
~ And to sofl music's airy sound. 
Her magic curtains clos'd around. 
There, renewed the vital spring, 
Again he r^gns a mighty king ; 
And many a fair and fragrant clime, 
Blooming in immortal prime. 
By gales of Eden ever fanned, ' 
Owns the monarch's high command : 
Thence to Britain shall return, 
• ( If right prophetic rolls I learn) 
Borne on Victory's spreading plume. 
His ancient sceptre to resume ; 
Once more, in old heroic pride. 
His barbed courser to bestride ; 
His knightly table to restore, 
And brave the tournaments of yore." 

They ce^'d : when on the tuneful stage 
Advanc'd a bard, of aspect sage ; 
His silver trq^ses, thin besprent. 
To age a graceful reverence lent j 
His beard, all white as spangles frore 
That clothe Plinlmimon*s forests hoar, 
Down to his harp descending flo#*d ; 
With Tmie's faint rose his futures g!ow»d ; 
His eyes difius'd a sofien'd fire. 
And thus he wak'd the warbling wire. 

" Listen, Henry, to my read ! 
Not from faicy realms I lead 
Bright-rob'd Tradition, to relate 
In forged colours Arthur's fate ; 
Though much of old romantic lore 
On the high theme I keep ra store : 
But boastful Fiction should be dumb, 
Where Truth the strain might best become. 
If tliine ear may still be won 
With songs of Other's glorious son, 
Henry, 1 a tale unfold, 
Never yet in rhyme enrolPd, 
Nor sung nor harp'd in hall or bower ; 
Which in my youth's full early flower, 
A minstrel, sprung of Cornish line. 
Who spoke of kings from old Locrinc, 
Taught me to chant, one vernal dawn. 
Deep in a cliff'-encircled lawn. 
What tinne the glistening vapours fled 
From cloud- envelopM Clyder's^ head ; 
And on its sides the torrents gray 
Shone to the morning's orient ray. 

•* When Arthur bow'd his haughty crest. 
No princess, veil VI in azure vest, 
Snatch'd him, by Merlin's pitent spell, 
In groves of golden bliss to dwell ; 
Where, crown'd witli wreaths of tnislctoc, t 
Steughter'd kings in glory go ^ 
But when befell, with winged speed. 
His champions, on a milk-uhite steed. 
From the battle's hurricane. 
Bore him to Jo«?ph*s towered fane ', 

^ Or Glyder, a moimtain in Caernarvonshire. fF. 

'7 Glastonbury Abbey, said to be founded by 
Joseph of Arimathea, in a spot anciently called the 
island, or valley, of Avalonia. fV, 



ODES. 



h Uk fiur vtkfflff At»]od : 

There, with chanted oraoo, 

Aid the kng blaze oTtapen cleu*, 

Tte fCoM firtfaen met the bier ; 

IVoi^ the dim iles, m order dread 

Of Mitia] woe, the chief they led, 

Aad deep intoiab'd in hdy groond, 

Bdbre the altar's soletnn boand. 

Armnd no dusky banneri wave, 

Ko moalderifig trophies mark the grave : 

Avay the mthleM Dane has torn 

£Kh tiaoe that Time's slov touch hid worn: 

Aod kRig, o'er the neglected stone, 

ObfifioB's veil its shade has throim : 

The fiHled tomb, with honour due, 

lis tfajoe, O Henry, to renew ! 

TbitheT, when OQnc)nest has lestor'd 

Job reoeant isle, and sheath'd the swoi^, 

Wbtt Pence with pafan has ctown'd thy brows, 

fitale thee, to pay thy pilgrim tows. 

fwre, ofatemmt of my lore. 

The pavcmem*s halkiw^ depth eiplore; 

Aai thrice a &thom nndemeatfi 

fine into tiie Tanlts of Death. 

IVn shsil thine eye, with wiM amaze, 

Oi hi»g%Biitk: stature gaze ; 

neie AmH, thon ind the monarch bud, 

AB li warrior-weeds array'd 5 

Coring in death his helroet-crown, 

A»d weapons huge of old renown. 

MBvtkl priDce, tie thipe to aave 

Fiom dark oN'mon Arthur's grsTC ! 

Su miy thy ships securely stem 

TIk western frith : thy diadem 

^K TiclDffioos in the van, 

^ heed the slings of Ulster's clan : 

py Korman pike^men win their way 

Ip the dnn rods of Harald*s bays : 

^^ from the steeps of rough Kildare 

Tby pmcing hootfs the folcoo scare : 

S» laay thy bow's unerring yew 

hi Aafts in Roderic's heart imbrew V* 

^■id the pealing symphony 
Je spiced goblets ihanUed high ; 
*n panioos new the song onpnss'd 
7W fiMosng king's impatient breast: 
'^** •he keen lightnings from his eyes ; * 
^ •sms awhile his bold emprise ; 
'"«» «»• he seems, with eager pace, 
^ ft«ecratcd floor to trace, 
^ ope, finom its tremendous gloom, 
jy tieanne of the wondrons tomb : 
P« BOW be bums hi thought to rear, 
^ its dark bed, the ponderous spear, 
*<^ with the gore of Pictish kings : 
r« SBW fcod hope his fancy wings, 
"^ paiss the monarch's massy blade, 
*< nsoR.temper'd metal made ; 
Jj* <rag to day the dinted shiekl 
*« fcit the itorm of Camlan's field. 

' T^^ oC Dnbfin. HaraM, or Harsager, the 

— ed. king oC Norway, is said, in the life of 

ap Oddzh, prince of North Wales, to have 

-^ *«*««*, •nd to have foumfedDublm. fV, 

Hwy is soppoaed to have succeeded in this 

ve^mse, chiefly by the use of the ioog bow, with 

'«« the trisb were Bntirely unacquainted. fK 



111 



O'er the Mpnlchre profomid 
E^en now, with archmg sculpture crowh*d. 
He plans the chantry's choral shrine, 
llie daily dirge, and rites divme. 



XIF. 
ODE FOR MUSIC. 

Am performed at the theatre in Oxford, on tke 2d 
of July, 1751, being theannivemry appointed 
by the late lord Crew, bishop of Durham, for 
the commemoration of bene fact ow to the uni- 
ver^ty. 



Quique sacerdotes casti, dum vita manebdt; 
Quique pit vates, & Pbosbo digna locuti ; 
Inventas aut oui vitam excoluere per artes ; 
Quique sui memores alios fecere mer«ndo; 
Omnibus his— ^ Virgil. 



BICrTAT. ACCOMP. 

Wnias shall the Muse, that on the sacred shell» 
Of men in arts and arms reoown'd, ' 
The solemn strain delights to swell ; 
Oh ! where shall Clio choose a race, 
Whom Fame with every laurel, every grace. 
Like those of Albion's envied isle, has crown'd ? 
cHoaus. 
Daughter and mistress of the sea. 
All-honoured Albion, bail ! 
Where'er thy commerce spreads the swelling sail. 
Ne'er shall she find a land like thee. 
So brave, so learned, and so free ; 
All-booour'd Albion, hail ! 
aaciT. 
But in this princely land of all that's good and 
great, 
Wonld Clio seek the most distioguisb'd seat. 
Most blest, where all is so sublimely blest. 
That with superior grace o'erlooks the rest. 
Like a rich gem in circliog gold enshrin'd ; 

AIR I. 

\Vhere Isis' waters wind 

Along the sweetest shore, 
That aver felt fair Culture's hands, 
Or Spring's embroxler'dtmaotle wore, 
Lo [ where majestic Oxford stands; 

CHORUS. 

Virtue's awful throne ! 
Wisdom's immortal source ! 

RECIT. 

Thee well her best belov'd may boasting Alb'ipa 
own. 
Whence each foir purpose of ingenuous praise. 
All that in thought or deed divine is deem'd. 
In one unbounded fide, one unremitted course. 

From age to age has still successive streamed; 

Where Learning and whefe Liberty have nurs'd. 

For those that in their ranks have shone the first. 
Their most luxuriant growth of ever blooming b^s. 

Digitized by LjOOQ IC 



lis 



WARTairS POEMS. 



RECtTATIVI AfiOOIir« 

In ancient days, «ben the, tbe queeo eadu'd 
With more than female fortitude, 
Bonduca led her painted ranks to 6glit; 
Oft times, in adamantine arms array'd, 
Pallas descended from the realms of light. 
Imperial Brttouei»e ! thy kindred aid. 
As once, alUglowhig from the well fought day 

The goddess tongfat a cooling stream, 
By chance inviting with their glassy gleam. 
Fair Isis waters flow'd not fu away* 
Bagershe riew'd the war^ 
On the cool bank die bwr'd her breast. 

To tbe soft 1^ her locks ambrosial gave; 
And thM the wat>iy n>'mph addmaM, 

Alt II. 

«' Here, gentle nymph, whoe'er thou art. 

Thy sweet refreshing stores impart : 

A goddess from thy moAy brink 

Asks of thy chrystal stream to drink : 

Lo ! Pallas asks the fHendly gift ; 

Thy coral-crowned tresses li^ 

Itise fhwi the wave, propitious pow»r, 

O listen from thy pearly bow'r." 
aicrr. 
Her accents Isb* calm attention canght, 

As lonesome, in her secret cell, 
In CTcr-varjriBg hues, as nimBie fancy taught 

She ranged the iM&y-tinctnf*d shdh 
Then from her work arose the Nais mild ; 

AIR III. 

She rose, and sweetly smil'd 
With many a lovely look. 
That whi^per*d soft consent : 
KEcrr. 
She smiFd, and gave the goddess in her flood 
To dip her casque, tho* dy'd in recent bk)od ; 

While Pallas, as the boon she took. 
Thus pour*d the grateful sentiment, 

AIR IV. 

" For this, thy flood tbe fairest name 
Of all Britannia's streams shall glide. 
Best favorite of the sons of lame, \ 

Of every tuneful breast the pride : 
For on thy borders, bounteous queen. 
Where now the eowelip paints the green 
With unregarded grace. 
Her wanton herds where Nature fseds. 
As lonesome o^er the breezy reeds 
She bends her silent pace ; 
Lo ! there, to wisdom's goddess dear, 
A far-fiun'd city shall her turrets rear, 
Rtcrr. 
** There all her force shall Pallas prove ; 
Of classic leaf with every crown. 
Each olive, meed of okl renown. 
Each ancient wreath, which Athens wove, 
ril bid her blooming bow'rs abound ; 
And Oxford's sacred seats shall tow'r 
To thee, mild Nais of the flood. 
The trophy of my gratitude 1 
The temple of my power 1" 
Ricrr. 
Nor was the pkms promiie vain ; 
Soon illustrioos AKked oame, [plain. 

And pitch'd fiur Wisdom^ tent on Istt* pleiSteoas 
Alfred, on thee ibaU all tba Muses wait, 



, AIR V. k coott^i. 

Alfred, nmjestic name. 
Of all our praise tbe spring ! 
Thee all thy sons shall siug, 
Deck'd with the martial and the civic wreath ? 
In notes most awful shall the trtimpet breathe, • 
To thee, great Romulus of learning's richeat state, 
RBcrr. 
Nor Alfred's boonteoiis hand alone, 
Oxford, thy rising temples own : 
Soon many a sage immtflcent, 
The prince, iSbe prelate, laurd-crowncd crowds 
Their ample bounty lent 
To build the beauteous monnmeoty 
That Pallas vow>d. 

aZCIT. ACCOMP. 

Aftd now she lifts her bead sabKaie, 
Ifijestic is tbe moas of tioie ; 
Nor wants there Oreoia's better pait, 
'Mid the proud piles of aneient art, 
Whoseftvtted spires, with mder hand, 
Wamfleet and Wiekham bravely plam^ ; 
Nor decent Dorie to dispense 
New chanas Inid old magnificeBce | 
And here and there soft Goriath weavea 
Her dsBdal coronet of leaves ; 

mncT. 
While, as with rival pride, their tow'TS invade 

the sky, 
Radcliffe and Bodley seem to vie. 
Which shall deserve tbe foremost place. 
Or Gothic strength, or Attic grace. 

RBcrr. 
O Isis ! ever wHl I chant thy praise : 
Not that thy sons have straek the goMea lyre 
With hands mostskilf^* hanre their brows ostwin'd 
With every isirest tower of Helicon, 
The sweetest swans of all tii' harmooioas choir 

And bade the musing mind 
Of every science pierce the pathlees wajriy 
And from the restthe wreath of wisdom won; 

AIR VI. 

But that thy sons have dar'd to fSad 
For freedom*s cause a sacred zeal ; 
With British breast, and patriot pride. 
Have still corruption's cup defy'd ; 
In dangerous da]rs untaught to fear 
Have held the name of honour dear. 
RBcrr. 
Bat chief on this ilhistrioas day, 
The Mttse her loudest peans loves to pay- 
Erewhile she strove with accents weak 
In vain to build tbe lofty rtiyme ; 
At length, by better days of bounty cheeT'd^ 
She dares unfold berwing. 

AIR VII. 

Hail hour of transport most sublime ! 

In which, the man rever'd. 
Immortal Crew commands to sing. 
And gives the pipe to breathe, the strhig to ipadu 
cHomos. 
Blait prelate, bail I 
Most pkms patrdn, most trivrnphanttbtme f 

Fkum whose anspicKMis hand 
On Isis' tow'TS new beauties beam, 
I ^ 



ODES. 



113 



New prabe her ourtiiig fstheit gain ; 
Immortal Crew! 
Blest prelate, bail ! 
Rccrr. 
Vea now 6i'd &Dcy feet thee lead 
To Fame^s high seated &jie 

The shouting band ! 
O'er ev^ hallovM head 
Fame's choicest wreaths she sees thee spread ; 
Alfred superior smiles the solemu scene to Tiew ; 

AIR Vfll. 

And bids the godd«w lift 

Her loudest tmmpet to proclaim, 
O Crew, thy consecrated gift. 
And ecbo with his own in social strains tby name. 
[Chorus repealed. 



ODE XV, 



ON 

HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, 

Joke 4th, 1785. 

Amid tfie thander of the war, 
True glory guides no echoing car; 
Nor bids the sword her bays bequeath. 
Nor stahis wHh blood her brightest wreath ; 
No plumed ho«ts her tranquil triumph own ; 
Nor spuils of murder'd multitudes she brings. 
To swell the state of her distinguished kings, 
And deck her chosen throne. 
On that fair throne, to Briuin dear. 
With the flow'ring twin'd 
High she hangs the herol spear, 
And there with all the palms of peace cothbra*d. 
Her unpolluted hands the milder trophy rear. 
To kings like these, her genuine theme. 
The Mate a blameless homage pays. 
To George of kings like these supreme 
She wishes honoured length of days. 
Nor prostitutes the tribute of her lajrs. 
Tis his to bid neglected genius glow, 
Aod teach the regal bounty how to flow. 
His tutelary sceptre's sway 
The Tindicated. arts obey, 

And hail their patron king; 
Tis his to judgments steady line 
Their flights fantastic to confine, 
And yet expand their wing ; 
The fleeting forms of fiishion to restrain, 
And bind capricious taste in troth's acmal clydn. 
Sculpture, licentious now no more, 
Prom Greece her great example takes, 
With Nature's warmth the marble waku«. 
And spurns the toys of modem lore ; 
In native beauty simply plaun'd, 
Corinth, thy tufted shafts ascend ; 
The Graces guide the painter's hand, 
His imigic mimicry to blend. 
While snch the gifts hit reign bestows. 

Amid the pnrad display, 
Thow gems around the throne he throws, 
That shed • tofter ray : 

YauXVIU. 



While from the summits of sublime renown 
He ¥rafts his favours universal gale. 

With those sweet flow'rs he binds a crown» 
That bkwm in Virtue's humble vale : 
With rich munificence the nuptual tie 
Unbroken he combines, 
Conspicuous in a nation's eye 
The sacred pattern shines. 
Fair Science to reform, reward, and raise. 
To spread the lustre of domestic praise. 
To fbster Emulation's holy flame. 
To build Society's majestic frame. 
Mankind to polish, and to teach. 

Be this the monarch's aim; 
Above ambition's giant reach 
The monarch's meed to claidi* 



VDE XVL 

FOR 



THE NEW YEAR, 1786. 

** DtAR to Jove, a genial isle 
Crowns the broad Atlantic wave ; 
The seasons there in mild assemblage tmil^ 
And vernal blossoms clothe the fruitful prime i 
There, in many a fragrant cave. 
Dwell the spirits of the brave. 
And braid with amaranth their brows tuhUme.** 

. So fcijni'd the Grecian bards of yore j 
And veil'd in Fable's fancy-woven vest 

A visionary shore. 
That faintly gleam'd on their prophetic eye 
Through the dark volume of futurity : 
Nor knew that in the bright attire they dress'd 

Albion, the green -hair'd heroine of tlie West; 
Ere yet she claim'd old Ocean's high command. 
And snatched the trident from the tyrant's hand. 
Vainly flow'd the mystic rhyme ? 
Mark the deeds from age to age. 
That fill her trophy-pictur»d page : 
And see^ with all its strength, untam'd by time. 
Still glows her valour's veteran rage 
O'er Calpe's * clifls, and steopy tow'rs. 
When stream'd the red sulphureoHS showers. 
And Death's own band the dread artillery threw ; 

While fisr along the midnight mam 

Its glaring arch the flaming volley drew ; 

How triumph'd Elliot's patient train. 

Baffling their vain confedeiate fdcs ; 

And met th' unwonted fight's terrific form ; 

And hurling back the burning war, arose 

Superior to the fiery storm ! 
Is there an ocean that forgets to roll 
Beneath the torpid |K)le, 
Nor to the brooding tempest heaves ? 
Her hanly keel the stubborn bilSow cleaes. 
The ruf ged Neptune of the wint'ry briue 
lo vain his adamantine breast-plate wears : 
To search coy Nature's guarded mine. 
She bursU the biimeis of th' indignant ice ; 
O'er sunless bays the beam of Sciiuce bears : 
And rousing far around the polar sleep. 

Where Drake's bold ensigns fcar'd to sweep, 
She sees new nations flock to some fell sacrifice. 

1 Gibraltar* 

I Digitized by Google 



114 



WARTOSrS PpEMS. 



She speeds, at George's sage coiomaiid. 
Society from deep to deep, 

And zone to zone she binds ; 
From shore to shore, o*er every land. 
The golden chahi of Commerce winds. 

Meantime her patriot-cares explore 

Her own rich woofs exhausUess store ; 

Her native fleece new fervour feels. 

And wiUens all ita whirHng wheels. 

And mocks the rainbow's radiant (fie ; 
M,ore wide' the laboars of the loom she spreadi. 
In firmer bands domestic Commerce weds. 
And calls her sister-isle to share the tie : 

Nor heeds' the violence that broke 
From filial realtaos her old. parental yoke F 
Her cities, thnmg'dwith oumy an Attic dome. 
Ask not the banner'd bastion, massy proof; 

Firm as the castled feudal foofj 
Stands the Briton's social home. — 
Hear, Gaul, of England's liberty the lot 1 
Right, Order, Law, protect her shnplest plain ; 
Nor scorn to guard the shepherd's n^bUy fokl. 

And watch around ihe ferest cot 

With conscious certainty, the twain 

Gives to the .ground his trusted grain. 
With eager hope the reddening harvest eyea ; 

And-olaimf the ripe aatnmnal gold. 
The meed of toil, of mdnstry the prize. 
For ours the king, who boasts a parent's praiae, 

Whoae hand the people's sceptre swaryi ; 
Ours is the senate, not a speoioos name. 
Whose active plans pervade the ciril frame : 
Where bold debate its noblest war diq>lays, 
And, in the kindUag strife, unlocks the tide 
Of manliest eloquence, and rolls the torrent widew 

Hence then, each vain complaint, away, 

.Esch captions doubt, and cautious fear f 
Nor blast the new-bom year. 

That anxious waits the sprmg's slow-shooting ray: 

Nor deem that Albbn's hooours ceastf to bloom. 

With candid, gbnee, th' nnpartial Muse, 

Invok'd on this anspickms mom. 
The present scans, the diatant tceoe purraes. 
And breaks opinioiiPs speculative gtoom : 
Interpret^ of ages yet unborn, 
Fiill right she spells the characters of Fate, 
That Albion still shall keep her wonted state ! 

Still in eternal story shme. 

Of Victoi^ the sea-beat shrine ; 

The source of every splendid art, 
f;>f old, of ftttore worlds Qm vniTerwl mtrl. 



ODE xriL 



Ills MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, 
JUNE 4th, 1786. 

Wrbn Freedom nurs'd her native fire 

In ancient Greece, and rul'd the Xjft | 
Her bards, disdainful, from the tyrant's htotf 

The tinsel gifts of flattery tore ; 
But paid to f^iltless power their willing vow : 

And to the throne of virtuous kings. 
Tempering the tone of their vindictive striagt, 

From truth's unprostituted store. 
The fragrant wreath of gratolation bore. 



Twas thus Alexias smote ^c fomily c}yoc4 1 

And Pindar on the Pentian lord 

His notes of indignation hurrd. 
And spum'd the minstrel slaves of eastern sway. 
From ^remblim: Jhel^es extorting conscious sUame; 
But o'er the antdem,'by ft-eedom's flame 
iUum'd, the banner of renown unfori'd : 

Thus to his Hiero decreed, 
^ongst the bold chieftains of the Pythian game. 
The brightest verdure of Castalia's l»y ; 

And gave an ampler mr«d 
Of Pisan palms, than in Ute field of feme 
Were wont to crown the car's victorious speed : 
And hall'd his scepter'd champion's patriot zeal. 
Who mix'd the monarch's with the people'^ jweal -, 

Brom civil plans who claim'd applause. 
And train'd obedient realms to Spartan laws. 
And he, sweet master of the Doric oet, 

Theocritus, forsook awhile 

The graces of his pastoral isle. 

The lowing vale, the bleating cote. 

The clusters on the sunny steep. 

And Pan's own umbrage, dark and deep^ 

The caverns hung with ivy -twine. 

The clifls that wav'd with oak and piat* 

And Etna's hoar roi^antic pile : 

And caught the Md Homeric note. 

In stately f^unch ewa.Uii]g high. 

The reign of txHinti^us Ptolemy : 

Like the pbtity-tcemiag tide 

Of hiso^n Nilt]*i rr^dundant fioo4« 

O'er the ciiL^^cM riaiuin.s, fur and iricll^ 
Difiuaing 0[iijV'ih!c i\\\<\ ^jubUc good j 

While in y\\k' richly -warbled lays. 

Was blended Biereuice!s name. 

Pattern feir of female fame« 

Solt'ning with domestic life 

Imperial aplendoiir's dazzling rayi* 

The qfifeen, the mother, and the wife ! - 
To deck with honour due this festal day, 
O for a slrain from these sabUmer baida! 
Who free to giant, yet fearless t0tr«fiif« 
Their awlid anffinage, witk io^artiai am 
Invok'd the jealoua panegyric Hi6e.; 
Nor, but to gonttiae wortilL's severer deim^ 

llieir proud diftinction deign'd to pay. 
Stem arbiters of glory's bright awards ! 

For peerless bards like these alone, ^ 

The baids of Greece might best adom« 
With seemly song, the monarch's natal mom i 
Who, thron'd in the magnificeQce of peaces 

Rivals their richest regal theme : 

Who rules a people lie their owi^ 

in arms, in pollsh'd arts supreme ; 

Who bids his Britaip vie wHh Greece. 



ODB xnti 



THE NEW YEAR» 17E|7, 

In rough magniftoano^arragF^ 

Wheu ancient Cbivaliy, dis|:4«F'cL 

The pomp of her heroic gian^; 

And crested chiefs* and \JmM ^»m^ 

Assembled, at the clarion's calV 

In some proud castle's high-arch^ haU» 



ODESL 



115 



lb grace romantic Qkry's ftnial rites : * 
AMociate of the gorgeous festiira], 
Tbe mingtrel struck hb kindred string, 
And told of many a steel-clad king. 
Who to the Inaey tnunVi bis haidy knif^ts; 
Or bore tbe racbant red-cross shield 
Mid tbe bold peers of Salem's field ; 
Wbo traFers*d pagan climes to quell 
Tbe wiaard ftie's terrific spell ; 
In rode affrays untaught to fear 
Tbe Saracen's gigantic spear. 
Tbe listening champions felt the £sbling rhyme 
With fisiry trappings fraught, and shook their plumes 
s«ib]ime. 

Snob were the themes of regal praise 
Dear to tbe basd ef dder days ; 
The soBgB, to savi^ virtue dear. 
That woo of yore tbe puMic ear $ 
Ere Polity, sedate aMi sage. 
Had queook'd tbe fires of feudal nge. 
Had stemm'd tbe torrent of eternal strife. 
And cbarm'a «» rsst an unrelentini: afe.— 
No more, io formidable ftate, 
Tbe castle abists its tbmideriDg gate t 
New colours suit tbe scenes of sofflea'd his ; 
No more, baafcriding barbed steeds, 
Adrenturona Vakmr idly bleeds : 
Aoi now tbe band in alter *d tones 
A theme of worthier triompb ewne ; 
By social imagery begnil^d, 
He monMa bis baqp to manners mild; 
Kor binger vcnvea tbe wreath of war akme. 
Nor bails tbe boctile forma that grae'd tbe Ootbic 
tbroDBb 

And nosr be tanes bis plansire lay 
To kinga, wbo plant tbe civic bay ! 
Whocbooae tbe pMriot 8aTereign>s part, 
Diffnsing comme n ce, peace, and art ; 
Who spread tbe virtuous pattern wide. 
And tfi wrnp h in a nation's pride ; 
Wbo seek coy Science in her cloistet'd nook. 
Where Thames, yet rural, rolls an artless tkle ; 
Wbo k>ve to view tbe vale divine. 
Where revel Nature and the Nine, 
And dttsteiing towers the tufted grove overlook ; 
To kings^ who rule a filial land, 
Wbo claim a peGple*8 vows and pray'rs, 
SboKild Treason arm the weakest hand > ! 
T^ these bis beart-felt praise he bears. 
And with new rapture hastes to greet 
This fiestal mom, that longs to meet. 
With luckiest auspices, the laughing Spring: 
And opes her glad career, with blessings on her wing ! 




HIS BfAJBSrrS BIRTH.DAY, 
JuMB 4th, 1787. 

Tsa neblest bards of Albion's choir 
H«se struck of ohi this festal lyre, 
Ere Scianee, strnggimg dk bi^ vain. 
Had dar'd to break her Gothic chain, 
V kt o ri ans Edwatfl gave the Temal bough 
Oi Britaio's bay to bfeon on Chaucer's brow : 



. to tiia attempt just made on 
majesty^ life by an unhappy maniac. 



his 



Fir'd with tiie gift, he chang'd to aonndi soblima 
His Norman minstrelsy's discordant chime ; 
li^ tones majestic hence be told 
Tbe banquet of Cambnscan bold ; 
And oft he sung (howe'er tbe rhyme 
Has mouMer'd to tbe touch of time) 
His martial master's knightly buard. 
And Arthur's imcient rites restor'd ; 
The prince in sable steel that sternly fkown^. 
And Gallia's captive king, and Cressjr's wreath re- 
nown'd. 
Won from the shepherd's simple meed. 
The whispers wrW of Miilla's reed, 
Sage Spenser wakM his lofty lay 
To grace Bliza's golden swtcy : 
O'er the proud theme new lustre to diffUse, 
He chose th^ gorgeous allegoric Muse, 
And call'd to life old Uther's elfin tale, 
And rov'd thro' many a necromantic vale, 
Pourtraying cbiefi that knew to tame 
The goblin's ire, the dragon's flame, 
To pierce the dark enchanted hall, 
Where Virtue sate in lonely thrall. 
From fsbling Fancy's inmost store 
A rich romantic robe he bore ; 
A veil with visionary trappings hung, 
Abd o'er his virgin -queen ^e ^ry texture flung; 
At length the matchless Dryden came. 
To light the Bluses' clearer flamo; 
To lofty numbers grace to lend. 
And strength with melody to blend ; 
To triumph in the bold career of song. 
And roll th' unwearied energy along. 
Does the mean incense of promiscuous praise. 
Does servile fear, disgrace his regal bays ? 
1 spurn his panegyric strings. 
His partial homage, tun'd to kings ! 
Be mine, to catch his manlier chord. 
That paints th' impassion'd Persian lord. 

By glory fir'd, to pity su'd, 
Rous'd to revenge, by love ^niKlu'd ; 
And still, with transport new, the strains to trace, 
Hiatcbantthe Theban pair, and Tancred*8 deadly 
vase. 
Had these Mest bards been call'd, to pay 
The VOW8 of thn auspicious day. 
Each had confessed a fairer throne, 
A mightier aoveretgn than his own ! 
Chaucer had made his hero-monarrh yield 
The martial fisme of Cressy s wdl-fbught field 
^To peaceful prowess, and the conquests calm. 
That braid the sceptre with tbe patriot*s palm : 

V His cbaplets of fhntastic btoom. 
His colourings, warm from Fiction's loom, 
Spenser had cast in scorn away, 
And decked with truth alone the lay ; 
All real here, the Uinl had seen 
The glories of his pictur'd qtieen ! 
The tuneful Dryden had not Hatter'd here, 
His lyre had blameless been, bis tribute all stnoere ! 



ODE XX. 

FOR 

THE NEW YEAR, 1788. 

Runs was th'- :)ile, and massy proof. 
That first uprear'd its haughty roof ^Ip 



116 



WARTOfra POEMS. 



On Windsor*! brow sublime, m warlike tftate : 

The Norman tyrant^s jealous hand 

The giant fabric proudly plann'd : 

With recent victory elate, 

" Ob this majestic ateep," he cried, 
«* A regalibrtress, threatening wide, 

Shall spread my terronrs to the distant hilla ; 
Its formidable shade shall throw 
Far o^er the broad expanse below. 
Where winds yon mi^ity flood, and amply fillt 
With flowery verdure, or with golden grain, 
The iairest fields that deck my new domain ! 

And London's towers that reach the watchman's 

eye, ' [«l^y." 

Shall see with conscious awe my bulwark climb the 

Unchanged, through many a hardy race, 
Stood the h)ugh dome in sullen grace; 

Still on its angry front defiance frown d : 

Though monarclis kept their sUte within. 
Still murmur'd with the martial din 
The gloomy gateway's arch profound; 
And armed^rms, in airy row. 
Bent o'er the battlements their bows. 

And blood-stain'd banners crown'd its hostile head j 
And oft its hoary ramparts wore 
The ruggUl scars of conflict sore ; 

What time, pavilion'd on the neighbouring mead, 
T^h* indignant barons rang'd in bright array 
Their fradal bands to curb despotic sway ; 
And leagu'd a Briton's bnrthright to restore. 

From John's rehictant grasp the roll of freedom bore. 

When lo, the king, that wreath'd hw shield 
With lilies pluck'd on Crcssy's field, 

Heav'd from its base the mouM'ring Norman finme! 
New glory cloth'd th' exulting steep. 
The portals towcr'd with ampler sweep j 
And Valour's soften'd genius came. 
Here held his pomp, and ttail'd the pall 
Of triumph through the trophied hall ; 

And War was clad awhrle in gorgeous weeds : 
itmid the martial pageantries, 

, WhHe Beauty*t glance adjudg'd the prize. 
And beam'd sweet influence on heroic deeds. 
Nor long, oie Hemy'a holy aeal, to breathe 
A milder charm upon the scenes beneath, 
Rear'd in the watery glade his classic shrine. 

And call'd his stripI'mg-qaiEe, to woo the willing Nine. 

T»tt»is imperial seat to lend 
Its pride supreme, and nobly blend 
British magnificence with Attic art ; 
Proud castle, to thybanner'd bowers, 
Lo ! Pictwrebids her glowing powers 
Their bold historic groups impart ; 
She bids th' illuminated pane. 
Along thy lofty-vaulted fane, 
Shed the dim bhuze of radiance richly clear. — 
Still may such arU of Peace engage 
Their patron's care I But should the rage 
Of war to battle rouse the new-bom year, 
Britain arise, and wake the slumbering fire. 
Vindictive dart thy quick-rekmdling ire ! 
Or, arm'd to strike, in mercy spare the foe; 
And lift thy thundering hand, and then withhold the 
blow! 



ODEXXr. 



HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY. 

June 4th, 1788. 

What native genius taught the Britons bold 

To guard their sea-girt cliflk of old ? 

Twas Liberty^ : she taught dbdain 

Of death, of Rome's impenat chain. 
She bade the drutd harp to battle sound. 
In tones prophetic thro* the gloom profound 
Of forests hoar, with holy foliage hung ; 
From grove to grove the pealing prelude ran|^ ; 
Belinus * call'd hb painted tribes arouiid. 

And, rough with many a veteran scar. 
Swept the pale legions with the scythed car. 

While baffled C»sar fled to gain 
An easier triumph on Pharsalia*s plain ; 
And left the stubborn isle to stand elate 
Amidst a-ooaqoerHi world, in kme majestic ftste ! - 

A kindred spirit soon to Britain's shore 

The SODS of Saxoo Elva bore ; 

Fraught with th' unconquerable soul, 

Who died, to dram the wairior-bowl. 
In that bright ball, where Odm's Gothio thmna 
With the broad blaze of brandtsh'd fidchioBt sbooc; 
Where the long roo& rebounded to the din 
Of ^>ectre chiefs, who feasted fiir mMak 
Yet, not intent on deathful deeds aloiie» 

They felt the fires of social zeal. 
The peaceful wisdom of the public weal ; 

Though nurs'd in arms and haidy sti^e, ^ 
They knew to frame the plans of temper'd life ; 
The king's, the people'4 baUnc'd clamis to foaoi 
On one atomal base, indissolubly bound. 

Sudden, to shake the Saxons mild domain, 
Rush'd in rude swanns the robber Dane» 
From frozen wastes, and caverns wild. 
To genial EngUAd's scenes beguil'd ; 
And in ^is clamorous van exulting came 
The demons foul of famine and of flame : 
Witness the sheep-clad summits, roughly crown'4 
With many a frowning foss and airy mound. 
Which yet his desultory march proclaim 1— - 
Nor ceas'd the tide of gore to flow, , . 
Till Alfred's laws allur'd th' intestine foe ^' 

And Harold calm'd his headlong rage 
To brave achievement, and to counsel sage ; 
For oft in savage breasts the buried seeds 
Of brooding virtue live, and freedom's fiiirest deeds! 

But tee, triumphant o'er the southern wave. 
The Norman sweeps ! Tho* first he gav« 
New grace to Briton's naked plain. 
With Arts and Manners in his train ; ' 
And many a fane he rear'd, that still subliooe 
In massy pomp has mock*d the stealth of time ; 
And castle fair, that stript firom half its tcnrVs, 
From some broad steep inshatter'd glory iow*n : 
Yet brought he Slavery ftxim a aoAer clim« ; 

> Cassifellaunua^Cassibellaunns, or, asbe ia^^alled 
by the old English historians, Cassibelinus. Tbo 
Britons united under him, and resisted the second 
inTasiv^ of Cseiar, flfty-fou^eait b«ftfe Christ; '• 

,'igitized by VjOO: 



ODES. 



U7 



Vjuh ere, the ««rfew't notes tetert 
(That now but aootbes the musiog poet't ear) 

At the new tyrmot^s stern commaod, 
Wam'd to onvelcooie rest a wakeful land ; 
While proud Oppreanoo o'er the ravisbM field 
High rais'd hit armed hand, and shook the feudal 

thield. 
aoop*d then that Freedom to despotic sway. 

For which, in many a fierce affray, 

The Britons bold, the Saxons bled, 

His Danisb Javelins Leswin led 
0*er Hastings* plain, to stay the Norman yoke ? 
Sbe felt, but to resist, the sadden stroke : 
The tjrrant^baron grasp'd the patriot steel, 
And taught the tyrant king its force to feel ; 
And qniek revenge the regal bondage broke. 

And still, unchang'd and uncontroiPd, 
its rescued rights shall the dread empire liold ; 
For lo, revering Britain's cause, 

A king new Instre lends to native laws, 

The sacred sovereign of this festal day 
On ABnoo'k old renown reieots a kindred ray ! 



ODE XXIL 



HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, 

June 4th, 1789. 

As when the demon of the summer storm 
Walks Ibith the noontide landscape to deform, 
0Bik grows the vale, and dark the distant grove, 
And thick the bolts of angry Jove 
Athwart the watery welkin glide. 
And streams the aerial torrent far and wide : 
If by short fits the struggling ray 
Sboold dart a momentary day, 
Th* iUumin'd mountain glows awhile. 
By fiunt degrees the radiant glance 
Pnrples th' horizon's pale expanse, 
And gilds the gloom with hasty smile : 
Ah ! fickle smile, too swiftly past 1 
Again resonnds thtsweeping blast , 
With hoarser din the demon howls ; 
Again the blackening concave scowls ; 
Sodden the shades of the meridian night 
Yietfl to the triumph of rekindling light ; 
The reddening Son regains his golden sway ; 
And Nature stands revealed in all her bright array. 
Such was the cbangefiil conflict that possess'd 
With trembling tamnlt every British breast, 
Whai Albsoii, towering in the van sublhne 
Of Olory't march, from clime to clime 
Envied, belovM, rever'd, renown'd. 
Her brows with every blissful chaplet bound. 
When, in her rnid oareer of state, 
Sbe felt her monarch's awful fate 1 
Tin Mercy from th' Aknigbty throne 
Look'd dewn on OMn, and wskvmg wide 
Her wvanth that, in the rainbow dyed, 
Witii hues of aoften'd luytr^ shone, 
Andhendiag finra her sapphire cloud 
O'er legal griff benignant bow'd ; 



To transport tum'd a people's fears. 
And stay*d a people's tide of tears : 
Bade this blest dawn with beams auspicious spring. 
With hope serene, with healing em its wing ; 
And gave a sovereign o'er a gratdtil land [hand. 
Again with vigorous grasp to stretch the scepter'd 

O favour'd king, what rapture more refin'^. 
What mightier joy can fill |he human mind. 
Than what the monarch's conscious bosom feels. 
At whose dread throne a nation kneels, 
And haiJs iIk father, fnend, and lord. 
To life's career, to patriot sway restor'd ^ 
And bids the loud responsive voice 
Of union all around rejoice ? 
For thus to thee when Britons bow. 
Warm and spontaneous from ihe heart. 
As late their tears, their transports start* 
And nature dictates duty's vow. 
To thee, recall'd to sacred health. 
Did the proud city's lavish wealth. 
Did crowded streets alone display 
The long-drawn blaze, the festal ray ? 
Meek Poverty her scanty cottage grac'd. 
And flung her gleam across the lonely waste t 
Th' exulting isle io oite wide triumph strove. 
One social sacrifice of reverential love ! 

Such pure unprompted praise do kingdoms pay. 
Such willing zeal, to thrones of lawless sway ? 
Ah ! how unlike the vain, (be venal lore. 
To Latian rulers dealt of yore. 
O'er guilty pomp and hated power 

When stream'd the sparkling panegyric shower; 
And slaves, to sovereigns unendear'd. 
Their pageant trophies coldly rear'd * 
For an& the charities, that blend 
Monarch with man, to tyrants known } 
The tender ties, that to the throne 
A mild domestic glory lend, 
Of wedded love the league sincere. 
The virtuous consort's faithful tear ? 
Nor this the verse, that flattery brings, 
Nor here I strike a Siren's strings ; [Muse 

Here kindling with her country's warmth, the 

Her country's proud triumphant theme pursues; 

E'en needless here the tribute of her lay ! 
Albion the garland gives on this distinguish'd day. 



ODE XXI JL 



HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, 

June 4th, 1790. 

Within what fountain's craggy cell 
Delights the goddess Health to dwell. 
Where from the rigid roof distills 
Her richest stream in steely rills > 
WHiat mineral gems intwine her humid locks ? 
Lo! Rparkling high from potent springs 
To Britain's sons her cup she brings !— > 
Romantic Matlock ! are thy tufted rocks. 
Thy fring'd declivities, the dim retreat 
Where the coy nymph has fix*d her favourite seat. 



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11« 



WARTOire POEMS. 



And bean, racUn'd along thtHninilawiif ilvre. 
Indignant Darw«nt's deniltory tide 
' I^ rqgged chanod rudely chide, [jgon N— 
Darweoty whose fthaggy wreath is «taiB*d«ith Danish 
Or does she dien her naiad cava 
With ^oral spoils from Neptune's wav«» 
And held short revels with the tram 
Of nymphs that tread the neighbonring main, 
And from the dift of Avon's cavem'd side 
Temper the balmy beverage pure. 
That, franght with drops of precious cure, 
Brings beck to trembl'rag hope the drooping bride, 
That in the vh^n's cheek renews the rose, 
, And wraps the eye of pain in quick repoae > 
While oft she climbs the mountain's shelving 

steeps, 
And calls her votaries wan to catdi the gale. 
That breathes o^r Ashton's elmy vale, 
And from the Cambnan hilb the billowy Severn 
sweeps !^ 

Or broods the nymph with watcfafnl wing 
O'er ancient Badon's mystic spring. 
And speeds from its solphureoas source 
'The steamy torrent's secret course, 
And fsiis th' eternal spariks of hidden Are, 
In deep unfetbom'd beds below 
By Bladud's magic taught to glow, 
Bladiid, high theme of Fancy's gothic Ivre ?— 
Or opes the healing power her chosen fount 
In the rich veins of Malvern's ample mount. 
From whose tall riflge the noontide wanderer 

views 
Pomona's {rarple realm, in April's pride. 
Its blaze of bloom expanding wide. 
And waving groves array 'd in Flora's fiuresthues? — 

Haunts she the scene, where Nature low'ra 
O'er Buxton's heath in lingering show'rs ? — 
Or loves she more, with sandal fleet 
In matin dance the nymph? to meet. 
That on the flowery marge of Chelder play ? 
Who, boastfhl of the stately train. 
That deign'd to grace his simple plain, 
late with new pride along his reedy way 
Bore to Sabrina wreaths S( brighter hue. 
And mark'd his pastoral urn with emblems new.— - 
Nowe'er these streams ambrosial may detain 
Thy steps, O genial Health, yet not akme 
Thy gifts tlie nakMl sisters own ; [main. 

Thine too the briny flood, and Ocean's hoar do- 

And lo, amid the watery roar 
In Thetis' car she sldms the shore. 

Where Portland's brows, embattled high 
"^ With vodu, in rugged majesty 

Frown o*er the billows, and the.^torm restrain. 
She beckons Britain's scepterM pair 
Her treasures of tba deep to share 1— 
Hail then, oo this glad mom,, the mighty main ! 
Which fends the boon divine oi leogthen'd datyi 
To those who wear the noblest legal bays: 
That mighty mam, which on iu conscious tida 
Their boundless oommeice pours on every cHme, 
Their dauntless banner bears sublime ; 
And wafts their pomp of war, and wpteadt their 
thundec wid^ 1 



SONNETS. 



SONSET 1. 

WRITTEN AT WINSLADC 

IN HAMPSHIRE. 

(wmrrrtii aaovr tub riAa 1150. FrautttsB m 

DoDster's CoLLBCTtOM 1T75.) 

WivsLADs, thy beech-capt bills, with waving grain 
Maatled, thy chequer'd views of wood aad lawn. 
Whilom cotUd charm, or when the gradual dawn 
'Gan the gray mist with orient purple stain. 
Or evening gUmmer'd o'er the folded train : 
Her fairest kmdscapes whence my Muse hasdrawi^ 
Too free with servile courtly phrase to fswv. 
Too weak to try the buskin's stately strain : - 
Yet now no more thy slopes of beech and com. 
Nor views invite, since be ' &r distant strays. 
With whom I traced their sweets at eve and iiior«» 
From Albion far, to cull Hesperian bays ; 
In this alone they please, liowe'cr forlorn. 
That still they can recal those happier days. 



S^iHET If. 

ON BATHING. 



(this and THt POfcLQWINO SONKBTS WEES rUBLI8BBI» 

iif 1777.) 

Wbbm late the trees were stript by Winter pale. 
Young Health, a dryad-maid in vesture green» 
Or like the forest's silver-quiver'd queen. 
On airy uplands met the piercing gale ; 
And, ftre its earliest echo shook the vale. 
Watching the hunter's ^yoos Jiom was seen. 
But since, gay-thron'd m fiery chariot sheen. 
Summer has smote each daisy-dappled dale ; 
She to the cave retires, high-archM beneath 
The fount that laves proud Isis' towery brran : 
And now, aU glad the temperate air to breathy 
While cooling drops distil from arches dim. 
Binding her dewy locks with sedgy wreath. 
She sits amid the quire of Naiads trim. 



SONNET UI. 



warrrBM tB a blabk leaf op BirGiui.B'a 

MOBASnCOM. 

Dcbm not, devoid of elegance, fbe sage. 
By fancy's genuine fbelings aafiagailM, 
Of painfol pedantry the iMriag eMMt; 
Who turns, ofthcaa proiid domei, th' I 
Now suiA by tlaie, and llanrf*Bieiioei 
Thmk'st thou tiie warbling BfusesMsar Bmll^ 
OnhtslonehoaT«? Ingenuous vkmu eaga|{» 
His thoo^ts, OB tbeuMBi anbiaBsit Ikbelir B^d. 
Intent While cHoMw'dPtalydiBplaya 
Her monMeHbg raN^ tlM-piBitiQig^ya w^iluBua 
New manners, and the»ptiMp*af aidiv days^ 
Whence enllBthe peori^ kod his pidlaM Btoves. 
Nor rough, adr b«rfa*v ^>^ *ti^ wi^iHy waya 
Of hoar iMtiqaityv barun*«willKiloiiBia. 

1 His brother Df. Jos. Wirtott. 

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jjdNNErrs- 



119 



WSS^T IV. 



mtlTTtK AT STOMCHKNC^ 



Tiioc noUeet monuTni-nt of Albion's isle ! 

Whether b\* Merlin's aid from Scythia*8 shore ', 

To Amber's fiitfll plain Pendragon bore, 

Hosre frame of jriani:- hands, the mighty pile, 

T entomb his Britrw^s slain by Hengisi's guile : 

Or droid priests, spnnkled writh human j^re, 

Tauj^t mid thy ma^y maze their mystic lore. 

Or Banish chiefr, cnrichM with savage spoil. 

To V»ctnry*8 idol vast, an nnhewn shrine, 

R<«r*d the rode heap : or, in thy hallow'd round, 

Rq)ose the king« of Brutus* genuine Ime ; 

Or here those kings in solemn state were ciownM : 

Studious to trace thy wondrous origin, 

We muse on many an ancient tale renowned. 



SO}iSET V. 

WaiTTBK APTSX SBEIMO WtLTON-BOT/SB. 

Fi'>»i Pembroke's princely dome, where mimic Art 
Decks with a ma|pc hand the dazzling bow'rs. 
Its liring hues where the warm pencil pours, 
And breathmir fbniis from the rude marble start. 
How to life*s humbler scene can I depart ! 
My breast all glowing from those gorgeous tow'rs, 
lo my low cell bow cheat the srtllen hours ! 
Vsio the complaint : for Fancy can impart 
(To &te superior, and to fortune's doom) 

I Wliate'er adorns the stately-storied hall : 
She, mid the dungeon's solitary gloom, 
Uo dress the Graces in their Attic pall : 
Sid the green landscape's Temal beauty bloom ; 

I And la bright tmphies clothe the twilight wall. 



SONNET VL 

T© MR. GRAY. 

Nor that her blooms are mark'd with beauty's hoe* 
Ify rustic Msse bar votiTe chaplet brings ; 
UoBeeDy vnheanl, O Gray, to thee she shags !— 
While slowly.jMh«iiig thro' the chordh^yard dew. 
At corfeo-tiMe, beoeath the dark-green yew, 
Thy peDBire gcoms strikes the moral strings ; 
Or bonw sttk^iiBe ^n Inspiration's wings, 
Hean Osnibris^ bards devote the dreadftd chie 
Of EdwanTs race, witKitiarthan foiil defil'd; 
Cm aught ny pipe to reach tkiae ear essay ? 
No, ban! diyiae ! fbr many a care begml'd 
By the sweet m^ ef thy soothihg lay. 
For many a rapttir'd thooq^ and vision wild, 
To thee tJ^ ttiain o^grttkude I pay. 

lOoe of tU6 Bar<ti8h traahtons stout Stone- 
hrage. W» 



SONNET VIL 

Whilb sununer-suns o'er the gay prospect 'play 'd. 
Through Surry's vCrdant scenes, where £psom 

spreads 
Mid intermingling elms her flowery meads. 
And Hascombe's bill, in towering groves array'd, 
Rear'd its romantic steep, with mind serene, 
I joumey'd blithe. Full pensfve I retorn'd ; 
For now my breast with hopeless passion burn'd. 
Wet with hoar mists appeared tlie gaudy scene, 
\^Tiich late in careless indolence I pass'd ; 
And Autumn all aroiind those hues had cast 
Where past delight my recent grief might trace. 
Sad change, that Nature a congenial gloom [chase, 
Should wear, when most, my cheerl^ mood ta 
I wish'd her green attire, and wonted bloom ! 



SONNET VIIL 



ON KINiS ARTHUR'S ROUND TABL^,, 

AT WIRCBESTBR. 

Whbbb Yenta's Norman castle still uprears 
Its rafter>d haU, that o'er the grassy fDss, 
And scatter'd flinty fragments clad in moss. 
On yonder steep in naked state appears ; 
High-hung remains, the pride of wariike yev«» 
Old Arthur's board : on the capacious rouid 
Some British pen has sketched the names renown'd. 
In marks obscure, of his immortal peers. 
Though joined by magic skill, with many a rfasrme, 
The I^id frame, ouhooonr'd, falls a prey 
To the slow vengeance of the wisard Time, 
And fade the British characters away ; 
Yet Spenser's page, that chants in verse sublioM 
Those chiefs, shall live, unconscious of decay. 



SONNET IX. 
TO THE RIVER LODON •• 

Ah ! what a weary race my fleet have run. 
Since first I trod thy banks with alders crown'd. 
And thought my way was all thro* fairy ground, 
Beneath thy azure sky, and golden sun : 
Where first my Muse to lisp her notes begun ! 
While pensive Memory traces back the round. 
Which fills the varied interval between ; 
Much pleasure, more of sorrow, marks the scene. 
Sweet native stream ! those skies and suns so pure 
No more return, to cheer my evening road ! 
Yet still one joy remams, that not obscure. 
Nor useless, all my vacant days have flow'd. 
From youth's gay dawn to manhood's prime mature; 
Nor with the Muse's laurel unbestow'd. 

1 Near Basingstoke, Warton's natis'c country. 



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^ 



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WARTON'S POEMS. 



SATIRICAL 

AND 

HUMOROUS PIECES. 

KEfniARKET, ^ 

A SATIRE. 
(pOBurasD in 1751.) 



Tfii rf. Sopbod. Elect. 508i 



His country's hope, when now the blooming behr 
Has lost the parent's or the guardian's cate ; 
Food to possess, yet eager to destroy, 
or each vain youth, say, what's the darling joy ? 
Of each rash frolic what the source and end, 
His M>le and first ambition what ? — to spend. 

Some 'squires, to Gallia's cooks devoted dupes. 
Whole manors melt in sauce, or drown in soups : 
Another doats on fiddlers, till he sees 
His hills no longer crown'd with towering trees ; 
Convinc'd too late that modem strains can move, 
Like those of ancient Greece, th' obedient grove : 
In headless statoes rich, and useless urns, 
Marmoreo from the classic tour retums.^- 
But would yott learn, ye leisurc-loving 'squires. 
How bc«t ye may disgrace your prudent sires; 
How soonest soar to fashionable shame, 
Be damn'd at once to ruin — and to fame ; 
By bands of groooM ambitious to be crown'd, 
O greatly dare to tread Olympic ground I 

What dreams of conquest flush'd Hilario's breast, 
When the good knight at last retir'd to rest ! 
Behold the youth with new-felt rapture mark 
"Each pleasing; prospect of 4he spacious park : 
Hiat park, where beauties undisguis'd engage. 
Those beauties less the work of art than age ; 
In simple state where genuine Nature wears 
Her venerable dress of ancient years ; 
Where all the charms of chance with order meet 
The rude, the gay, the graceful, and the great. 
Here aged oaks uprear thdr branches boar. 
And form dark groves, which Druids might adore ; 
With meeting boughs, and deepening to the view,' 
Here shoots the broad umbrageous avenue : 
Here various trees compose a chequer'd scene, 
Glowhig in gay diversities of green : 
There the fiill stream thro' iotermingruig glades 
Shines a broad lake, or iislls in deep cascades. 
Nor wants there hazle copse, or bcecben lawn, 
To cheer with sun or shade the bounding fawn. 
' And see the good old seat, whose Gothic tow'rs 
Awful emerge from yonder tufted bow'rs ; 
Whose rafter'd ball the crowding tenanU fed. 
And dealt to Age and Want their daily bread ; 
Where crested knights with peerless damsels joiu'd. 
At high and solemn festivals have din'd ; 
Presenting oft fair Virtue's shining task. 
In mystic pageantries, and moral mask. 



But vain all ancient praise, or boast of biitb. 
Vain all the palms of old heroic worth ! 
At once a bankrupt and a prosp'nms heir, 
Hilario bets^ — park, house, dissolve in air ; 
With antique armour hung, his trc^hied rooms 
Descend to gamesters, prostitutes, and grooms. 
He sees his steel-clad sires, and mothers mild. 
Who bravely shook the lance, or sweetly smil'd. 
All the Ceut series of the whisker'd race. 
Whose pictur'd forms the stately gallery grace ; 
Debas'd, abus'd, the price of ilUgot gold. 
To deck some tavern vile, at auctions soM. 
The parish wonders at the unopening door. 
The chimnies blaze, the tables groan, no more. 
Thick weeds around th' untrodden courts arise. 
And all the social scene in silence lies. 
Himself, the loss politely to repair. 
Turns atheist, fiddler, highwayman, or play'rt 
At length, the scorn, the shame of man and God, 
Is doom'd to rub the steeds that once he rode. 

Ye rival youths, your golden hopes how vam. 
Your dreams of thousands on the listed pUm ! 
Not more fantastic Sancho's airy course. 
When madly mounted on the magic horse >, 
He pierc'd Heav'n's opening tptoneswith dazzled 

eyes 
And seem'd to soar in visionary skies. 
Nor less, I ween, precarious is the meed 
Of young adventurers on the Muse*8 steed ; 
For poets have, like joa, their destin'd rounds 
And ours is but a race on classic gfoond. 

Long time, the child of patiinicnial ease^ 
Hippolitus had carv'd sirloins in peace ; 
Had quafi^d secure, unyez'd by toil or wifie. 
The mild October of a private life : 
Long liv'd with calm domestic conquests crowned, 
And kill'd his game cm safe paternal ground : 
And, deaf to Honour's or Ambition's call. 
With rural spoils adom'd his hoary ball. 
Am bland he pofi^d the pipe o*er weekly news. 
His bosom kindles with sublimer views. 
Lo there, thy triumphs.Taafie, thy paliiis,Poitmoie ! 
Tempt him to stake his lands and treasur'd store. 
Like a new bruiser on Broughtonic sand. 
Amid the lists our hero takes his stand ; 
Suck'd by the sharper, to the peer a prey. 
He rolls hb eyes, that witness huge dismay; 
When lo ! the chance of one ingtorioas heat 
Strips him of genial cheer and snug letieat 
How awkward now he bears disgrace and dht. 
Nor knows the poor's last refuge, to be pert ! — 
Thd shiftless beggar bears of ilis the worst. 
At once with dulness and with bunser curst 
And leeis the tasteiesa breast eqntsCrian fires ? 
And dwelb luoh mighty rage in graver 'squires ? 

In aU aAtempts, but for their country, bold, 
Britam, thy consoript counsellors behold ; 
(For some, perhaps, by fbftube favOniM yet. 
May ^ih a bomugh, fimn a lucky bet,) 
Smit with the love of the laconte boot. 
The cap, and wtg^tMcioet, the sittttii suit. 
Mere moAom Phaetons^ imirp (Im rein. 
And scour in rival «ace the tttnptiag plahL 
See, side by side, his jockey And air John 
Discuss th' important point— of At lo one. 

1 Oavikiio. See Doa Qaooteu B» ii. Chap* 
41. IF. -^ -«-r 



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PROLOGUE. 



121 



fbr oh ! tbe boMbed prif H^ how dear. 
How great the pride, to gain a jockey's ear I 
See, like a routed host, with headlong pace, 
Thy membefs pour aoiid the nungliug race ! 
All ask, vhat crowds the tumult could produce 
If Bedlam or the commons all broke loose ? 
Their way nor reason guides, nor caution checks. 
Proud on a high>bred thing to risque their necks. 
Thy safes hear, amid th' admiring crowd, 
Adjwlge the slakes, most eloquently loud : 
With critic skill o'er dubious bets preside, 
The low dispute, or kindle, or decide: 
All empty wisdom, and judicious prate, 
Of dtstanc'd horses gravely fix the fote : 
And with paternal care unwearied watch 
CKer the nice conduct of a daring match. 

Meaoiime, no more the mimic patriots rise, 
To guard Britannia's honour, warm and wise : 
No more in senates dare assert her laws, 
Nor poor the bold debate in freedom's cause : 
Neglect the counsels of a sinking land, 
And know no rostrum, but Newmarket's stand. 

Is this the band of civil chie£i design'd 
Od England's weal to fix the pondering mind > 
Who, while their country's rights are set to sale. 
Quit Europe's balance for the jockey's scale. 
say, when least their sapient schemes are crost. 
Or vheo a nation or a match is lost ? 
Who dams and sires with more exactness trace. 
Than of their country's kings the sacred race : 
Thiak London journeys are the worst of ills ; 
Sobscribe to articles^ instead of bills : 
Strangers to all our annalists relate, 
Tbeifs are the memoirs of the equestrian stato : 
Who, k»t to Albion's past and present views, 
Heber ^ thy chronicles alone peruse. 

Go on, brave youths, till in some future age 
Whips shall become the senatorial badge -, 
Till Eagland see her thronging senators 
Meet all at WesUninster, in boots and spurs ; 
See the whole House, with mutual frenzy mad. 
Her patriots all in leathern breeches clad : 
Of bets, not taxes, learnedly debate. 
And guide with equal reins a steed or state. 

How wouU « rirtuous Houhnhym neigh disdain. 
To see his brethren brook th' imperious rein ; 
Bear slavery's wanton whip, or galling goad, 
Soioke thro' the glebe, or trace the destined road ; 
And, robb'd of manhood by the murderous knife, 
Sustam each sordid toil of servile life. 
Yet oh ! what rage would touch his generous mind, 
To see his sons of more than human kind ; 
A kind, with each exalted virtue blest. 
Each gentler feeling of the liberal breast, 
Afibcd diversion to that monster base. 
That meanest spawn of man's half-monkey 'race ; 
Id whom pride, avarice, ignorance, conspire. 
That hated anraoal, a Yahoo 'squire. 

How are the Tberons of these modern days [bays ; 
Chang'd firom those .chiefs who toil'd for Grecian 
Wbo^ fir'd with genuine glory's sacred lust, 
Wbirl'd the swift axle through the Pythian dust ! 
Theirs was the Pisan olive's blooming spray, 
Thdn was the Tbeban bard's recording lay. [odds ? 
What though the grooms of Greece ne'er took the 
They won no bets, — but then they soar'd to gods; 

s Author of an Historical List of the Running 
nana, he m 



And more an Hiero's palm, a Pindar's ode. 
Than all th' united plates of George bestow'd. 

Greece 1 how I kindle at thy magic name. 
Feel all thy warmth, and catoh the kindred flama 
Thy scenes sublime and awful visions rise 
In ancient pride before my musing eyes. 
Here Sparta's sons in mute attention hang. 
While just Lycurgus pours the mild harangue ; 
There Xerxes' hosts, all pale with deadly fear. 
Shrink at her fated hero's flashing spear. 
Here hung with many a lyre of silver string. 
The laureate alleys of Ilissus spring ; 
And lo, where rapt in beauty's heavenly dream 
Hoar Plato walks his oliv'd Academe- 
Yet ah ! no more the land of arts and arms 
Delights with wisdom, or with virtue warms. 
Lo ! the stem Turk, with more than Vandal rage. 
Has blasted all the wreaths of ancient age : 
No more her groves by Fancy's feet are trod. 
Each Attic grace has left the lov'd abode. 
Fall'n is fair Greece ! by Luxury's pleasing bane 
Seduc'd, she drags a barbarous foreign chain. 

Britannia, wateh ! O trim thy withering bays. 
Remember thou hast rivall'd Gnecia's praise, 
Great nurse of works divine ! Yet oh ! beware 
Lest thou the fote of Greece, my country, share. 
Recall thy wonted worth with conscious pride. 
Thou too hast seen a Solon in a Hyde ; 
Hast bade thine Edwards and thine Henries rear 
With Spartan fortitude the British spear ; 
Alike hast seen thy sons deserve the meed 
Or of the moral or the martial deed. 



PROLOGUE 



OLD WINCHESTER PLAYHOUSE 

OVER THB BUTCHSa's SHAMBLES. 

Whoe'er our stage examines, must excuse 
The wondrous shifts of the dramatic Muse | 
Then kindly listen, while the prologue rambles 
From wit to beef, from Shakespeare to the sham- 
bles ! 
Divided only by one flight of stairs, 
The monarch swa^ers, and the butcher swears ! 
Quick the transition when the curtain drops. 
From meek Monimia's moans to mutton«chops ! 
While for I^othario's loss Lavinia cries. 
Old women scold, and dealers d — n your eyes ! 
Here Juliet listens to the gentle lark. 
There in harsh chorus hungry bull-dogs bark. 
Cleavers and scymitars give blow for blow, 
And heroes bleed above» and sheep below ! 
While tragic thunders shake the pit and box. 
Rebellows to the roar the staggering ox. 
Cow-horns and trumpets mhi their martial tones. 
Kidneys and kings, mouthing and marrow>bones. 
Suet and sighs, blank verse and blood abound. 
And form a tragi-comedy around. 
With weeping lovers, dying calves complain. 
Confusion reigns — chaos is come again 1 
Hither your steelyards, butcherR, bring, to weigh 
The pound of flesh, Anthonio's bond must pay I 
Hither your knives, ye Christians, clad in blue. 
Bring to be whetted by the ruthless Jew • 



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m 



yvAKrom poems. 



Hard it ont f<^ who, setdom doomM to «irt. 
Cast a Aeep Veye oo this furfouMenlkieat-^ 
Gaze m tirMm, wh(ch, ah ! me <Aimot cait^ 
And in the midst of legi of nuitttti— starve ! 
But woaM yoa to our house in erowds repair. 
Ye gcn»roiw captaiosk Hod ye Uoomliig flUr, 
The &te oTTantahis we shOnM not fear, 
Nor pine for a rep*9t that is so Dem*. 
Moaarebs no moi« would tupperiess remain, 
Kor prq^nAtttqneeoi for cutlets loog to vaSo. 



A PANfiOYRIC 

OK 

OXFORD ALB. 



■ ' ' " Mea nee Palenus 
Temperant titts, neque Forntimi 

Pocula colles. Hot. 



(wamaK in 1748. miusBcp m 1750.) 

Balm of my caret, sweet solace of my toils. 

Hail, juice benignant ! O'er the costly cups 

Of riot-stlrriog wioe, unwholesome drausbt. 

Let Pride's loose sons prolong the wasteful night; 

My sober erening let the tankard bless. 

With toast embrown'd, and fragrant nutmeg fraught, 

While the rich draught with oft-repeated whiA 

Tobacco mild improves. Divine repast ! 

Where no crude snrfSeit, or intemperate joys 

Of lawlew Bacchus reign ; but o'er my soul 

A calm Lethean creeps ; in drowsy trance 

Each tbooght tubsidcHH and sweet oblivion wraps 

My peaceful brain, as if the leaden rod 

Of magic Morpheos o*er mine ejres had shed 

Its opiate inAuence. What tho* sore ills 

Oppress, dire want of cbill*di8pe1lingcoak 

Or cfaeerftti candle, (save the make- weight's gleam 

Haply remaining) beart-rcjoicing Ale 

Cheers the sad scene, and every want supplies. 

Meantime, not mjndlest of the daily task 
Of tutor sage, upon the learned leaves 
Of deep Smiglecnv much I meditate ; 
WUIe Ale inspirrs, and lends its kindred aid. 
The thought-perplexing labour to pursue. 
Sweet Helicon of logic ! But if friends 
Congenial call me from the toilsome page, 
To pol-bouse I repair, the saored haunt. 
Where, Ale, thy votaries so full resort 
Hold rites ndctumal. In capacious chair 
Of moDumental oak and antiqae mouki. 
That long has stood the rage of cooqueriag years 
Iavk>bite, (nor in more ample chair 
Smokes rosy Jostioe, when th^ important cause, 
Whether of henHEOOst, or ot mirthful npe, 
In all the majesty of paunch he tries) 
Studious of eaee, and provident^ I place 
My gladsome limbs $ while in repeated rooad 
Retim replenished the successive cnp^ 
AM the bnsfc fire oonsptres to genial joy : 
While haply, te relieve tiie lia^riiy bom 
In famocetai dfelii^ awMwre pntt 



On sofooth joint-ilool In emblematic play 
The vain ^issftutfes dflbrttine shows. 
Nor reckoning, name tremendous, me d'*stiirti*» 
Nor, calW fbr, <*ill9 my breast with sudden feir^, 
White on the #onted door, expressive mark. 
The frequent penny stands describe to view, 
In snowy characters and gNu^efbl row.— 

Hail, Ticking ! shrest ^lairltan of disnm ! 
Beneath thy shelt^, pennyK^ » i qnsff 
The cheerfol cup, nor hear with hop^ess heart 
New oystera cry'd j— tho' much the poet's friend, 
Ne'er yet attempted in poetic strain. 
Accept this tribute of poetic praise ! 

Nor proctor thrice with vocal heel alarms 
Our joys Secure, nor deigns the lowly roof 
Of pot-house snug to visit : wiser he 
The splendki tavern haunts, or coflec-hrHwe 
Of James or Juggins, where the {nattftl bieath 
Of loath'd tobacco ne'er dilRw'd its bain ; 
But the lewd spendthrift, fklsely deemed polite, 
While steams aronnd the fraprant ImJImi bowl. 
Oft damns the vulgar sons of humbler Ale : 
In vain— ^he proctor's voice nrrwts thdr inys; 
Just fktc of wanton pride and loose excess ; 
Nor less by day delightful Is thy draught, 
AlUpow*rfoi Ale ! whose sonrw-aoothlng sweets ' 
Oft I repeat in vacant afternoon. 
When tatter'd stockings ask toy mending hand ' 
Not unexperienced ; while the tedkras tdl 
Slides unregarded. Let the tender swain 
Each mom regale on nerve-relaxing tea, 
Companion meet of Iftngu^r^oving nymph : 
Be mine each mom with eager appetite 
And hunger undtssembled, C6 repah* 
To friendly battery ; there on smoakmg crust 
And foaming Ale to banquet unrestrainM, 
Material breskfhst ! Thus in ancient days 
Our ancestors robust with liberal cups 
Usbeed the mora, unlike the squeamish sons 
Of modem times : nor ever had the might 
Of Britons brave decayed, had thns t1>ey fed. 
With British Ale improving British worth. 
With Ale irrigtious, undismay'd I hear 
The frequent dun ascend my tefty dome 
Importunate : whether the plaintive ▼oice 
Of laikndress shrill awake my startled ear ; 
Or barber spruce with sUppTe look intnide ; 
Or taylor with obsequious bow advance ; 
Or groom invade me with defying front 
And stem demeanour, whose emaciate steeds 

' In the Companion to the Guide, dCc. our author 
thus humorously comments on his own poan ; 
" In this neighbourhood, adjdnmg to the east end 
of Caciax church, are to be fbuul the imperfect 
ttaces of a place, properly dedicated to'the Mbses, 
and described hi out statutes by the ^n^tiar but 
forbiddmg denomhiation of PennyUst Bench. Bift- 
tory and tradition report, that mJiny eikilnent poeta 
have been btnehers here. T6 this teat o(f the Mus5 
we are most probably mdebted tor that cefebraccd 
poem. The SbUndid Shilling of PhOips; and that 
the author of the Panegyric an Oajbrd Ale waa no 
stranger to this inspiring bench, may be ^ty con- 
cluded from these verses. Where he auldK^ the 
god or goddess of ticking ; 

«• Benaatl\ thy shelter, pennyle$s I quaff 
The chieerfbl cup." 



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PROGRESS OF DISCONTENT. 



Ifl 



(Whene'er or Phoebus sbone with kindlier beams. 
Or luckier chance the borrow'd boots supplyM) 
Had panted oft beoeftth my goring steel. 
In vain they plead or threat : all-pow'rful Ale 
Excuses new supplies,^ and each descends 
With joyless pace, and debt-despairing looks : 
Fen Spacey with indignant brow retires. 
Fiercest of duns ! and conqner'd quits the field. 

Why did the gods such various blessings pour 
On hapless oioitaU, from their grateful hanids 
So soon the short-livM bounty to recall ?— 
I1iu« while, improTideot of future ill» 
I quaff the luscious tankard uncontrollM, 
And thoughtless riot in unUcens'd bliss ; 
Sadden (dire fate uf all things excellent !) 
Th' unpitying bnrsar's cross-affixing hand 
Blasts all my joys, and stops my glad career. 
Nor DOW the friendly pot-'fiouse longer yields 
A sure retreat, when night o*ershades the skies ; 
Nor Sheppsrd, barbarons matron, longer gives 
The wobted triist, and Winter ticks no more. 

Thus Adam, exil'd from the beauteous scenes 
Of Eden, griev'd, no more m fragrant bow*r 
On fruits divine to feast, fresh shade and vale 
No more to visit, or vioe-maniled grot ; 
But all forlortt, the dreary wilderness 
And aorqoicmg solitudes to trace : 
Thas too the matchless banl S whose lay resound^ 
The Splendid SbiIlio|r*s praise, in nightly gloom 
Of kwesome garret, pin'd for cheerful Ale ; 
Whose steps io verse Miltonic 1 pursue. 
Mean follower : like him with honest love 
Of Ale divine inspired, and love of song. 
Bat kxig may bonuteoos Heav*n with watchful care 
Avert his hapless lot ! Enough for me 
That bomjug with congenial dame I dar'd 
His guiding steps at distance to pursue. 
And sing his favorite theme in kindred strains. 



PROGRESS OF DISCONTENT K 

(Wftrmil AT OXFORD IN TBI TEAK 1746.) 

Whiii now mature in classic knowledge. 

The joyful youth is sent to college, 

Bis iaUier comes, a vicar plain. 

At Oxford brad — m Anna's reign, 

And tbos, in form of bnmble suitor, 

Bowing accosts a reverend tutor : ' 

*J. Philips. 

1 This poem took its rise from an epigram, which 
our poet wrote as scholar of Trinity College ; and 
which meeting with the approbation of the presi- 
dent. Dr. Huddetdbrd, Warton at his request para- 
phrased in English. The English poem was first 
poUisbed in the Student, in Uie year 1750, aind 
afterwards much altered and improved. The ori- 
ginal Latin sketch will be found among bis Latin 
poems. '* At the hazard of an imputation of 
paftia!it|r to the author (says Dr. Warton in his 
edition of Pbpe, vol. ii. p. 3Q2A I venture to. ssy 
that I prefer a poem called The Progress «/ !)•#- 
content, to any imitaftk>9 of Swif^ that bMSTer 7^^ 
appeared." 



" Sir, Fm a 61o^»l«raliif« divine^ 

And this my eldest son of aine ; 

My wife's ambition and ray own 

Was that this child shook! wear a go«m i 

Y\\ warrant that his good behaviottr 

Will justify your future favour; 

And, for his parts, to tell the truth. 

My son's a very forward youth; 

Has Horace all by heart— ^you'd wonder— . 

And mouths out Homer's Greek like thmider. 

If you'd examine— and admit hitt, 

A scholarship would iricely fit him ; 

That he succeeds tis ten to one ; * 

Your vote and interest, sir f'^-'Tis done. 

Ourpnpirs hopes, tho* twice defeattKl, 
Are with a scholarship completed : 
A scholarship but half maintains. 
And college-rules are heavy chains : 
In garret dark he smokes and puns, 
A prey to discipline and dona ; 
And now, intent on new designs, 
Sighs for a fellowship— and fines. 

When nine full tfrdioos winters past *, 
That utmost wish is crown*d at last: 
But the rich prize no sooner got. 
Again he quarrels with his lot : 
" These fellowships are pretty things. 
We live indeed like petty kmgs : 
But who can bear to waste his whole age 
Amid the dulness of a college, 
Debarr'd the common joys of life, 
.\nd that prime bliss — a loving wife ! 
O ! what's a table richly spread. 
Without a woman at its hc»d ! 
Would some snug benefice but fell, 
Ye feasts, ye dinners ! fiirewell all ! 
To offices I'd bid adieu, 
Of dean, vice praes.— of bursar too; 
Come joys, that rural quiet yield'^, 
Come, tythes, and house, and fruitful fields !" 

Too fond of freedom and of ease 
A patron's vanity to pleate, 
IxMig time he watches, and. by stealth. 
Each frail incumbent^ doubtful health ; 
At length, and in his fortieth year, 
A living drops— two hundred clear ! 
With breast elate beyond expression, 
He hurries down to take possession, 
With rapture views the sweet retreat— 
" What a convenient house ! how neat * 
For fuel here's sufficient wood : 
Pray God the cellars BMy be good ! 
The garden — that most lie new plann'd — 
Shall these old-fashion'd yew-trees stand } 
O'er yonder vacant plot sl)all rise 
The flow'ry shrub of thousand dies : — 
Von wall, that feels the southern ray. 
Shall blush with ruddy firuitage gay : 
While thick beneath its aspect warm 
O'er well-rang'd hives the bees shall s#arm, 
From which, ere I6ng, of golden gleam 
Metheglin's luscious juice shall stream : 
This awkward hut, o'ergrown with ivy, 
i We'll alter to a modem pKJ^ : 



«The scholars of Trinity are superannuated, if 
they do not succeed to fellowships in nine yearr 
after their election to scholarships. 



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124 



WARTON'S POEM& 



Up yon gftem t1ope» of baieli triiBy 

An avenae to cool and dim 

Shall to an harbour at the end, 

In spite of goilt, entice a friend. 

My prwicre»or lov'd derotion-* 

But of a garden had no notton." 
Continniog this fantastic force oOy 

Be now commences country puvon* 

To make his character entire^ 

He weds— a cousin of the 'aqoire; 

Not over weighty in the purse. 

But many doctors have done worse : 

And tho' she boasts no charms divine, 

Yet she can carve and make birch wine* 
Thus fixt, content he taps his barrel, 

Exhorts his neighbours not to quarrel ; 

Fmds his church-wardens have discerning 

Both in good liqnor and good learning; 

With tythes his bams replete he sees. 

And chuckles o'er his surplice fees ; 

Studies to find out latent duet. 

And regulates the state of pews ; 

Rides a sleek diare with purple housing, 

To share tlie monthly club^s carousing ; 
Of Oxford pranks facetious tells. 

And — but on Sundays— hears no bells ; 
Sends presents of his choicest fruit. 
And prunes himself each sapless dioot; 
Plants cauliflowers, and boasts to rear 
The earliest melons of the year ; 
Thinks alteration charming work is. 
Keeps Bantam cocks, and feeds his turkies; 
Builds in his copse a fav'rite bench, 
And stores the pond with carp and tench. — 

But ah I too soon his thottghtlett breast 
By cares domestic is opprest ; 
And a third butcher's bill, and brewing. 
Threaten inevitable ruin : 
For chMdren fresh expenses yet. 
And Dicky now for school is fit 
« Why did I sell my college life" 
(He cries) ** for benefice and wife } 
Return, ye days, when endless pleasure 
I found in reading, or in leisure ! 

- When calm around the common room 
I puiTd my daily pipe's perfume I 
Rode for a stomach, and inspected. 
At annual bottlings, corks selected : 
And din'd untaxed, untroubled, under 
The portrait of our ^pious founder 1 
When impositions were supply'd 
To light my pipe — or sooth my pride- 
No cares were then for forward peas, 
A yearly-longing wife to please ; 
My thoughts no cbrist'ning dinners crost. 
No chUdren cry'd for buttered toast ; 
And ev'ry night I went to bed. 
Without a modus in my head !*' 

Oh 1 trifling head, and fickle heart ! 
C!h^grin*d at whatsoe'er thoa art ; 
A dupe to follies yet untrsr'd. 
And sick of pleasures, scarce enjoy'd I 
Each prize pussets^d, thy transport ceises, 
And in pursoii alone il pteasM. * 



PHAETON, 

AND THE 

ONE-HORSE CHAHL 

At Blagrave's > once upon a time. 

There stood a Phaeton sublime : 

Unsullied by th^ dusty ruad 

Its wheels with recent crimson glow'd ; 

Its rdes displayed a dazzling hue, 

Its harness tight, its lining new : 

No scheme-enamourM youth, I ween, 

Survey*d the gaily-deck*d machine. 

But fbndly longM to seize the reins. 

And whirl o'er Caropsfield's < tempting plains. 

Meantime it chanc*d, that hstd at hand 

A One-Horse Chair had took its sUod : 

When thus ouf vehicle begun 

To sneer the luckless Chaise and One. 

** How could my master place me here 
Within thy vulgar atmosphere ? 
Fhxn classic s round pray shHt thy sution, 
Thon scorn of Oxford education ! — 
Your homely make, believe me, man. 
Is craite upon the Gothic plan ; 
And you, and all your clumsy kind. 
Far lowest purposes designed : 

I Fit only, with a one-ey'd mare, 
To drag, for benefit of ah*, 
The country parson's pregnant wife. 
Thou friend of dull domestic life ! 
Or, with his maid and aunt, to school 
To carry Dicky bn a stool : 
Or, haply, to some christening gay 
A brace of godmothers convey. — 
Or, when blest Saturday prepares 
For London tradesmen rest from cares, 
Tis thine to make them happy one day, 
Companion of their genial Sunday ! 
Tis thine, o'er turnpikes newly made. 
When thnely show'rs the dust have laid. 
To bear tome alderman serene 
To fragrant Hampstead*s sylvan sceiie. 
Nor higher scarce thy merit rises 
Among the polish'd sons of Isis. 
Hir'd for a solitary crown, 
C&inst thou to schemes invite the gown ? 
Go, tempt some prig, pretending taste. 
With hat new cock'd, and newly iac'd» 
O'er mutton-chops, and scanty wine. 
At hiimble Dorchester to dine ! 
Meantime remember, lifeless drone ! 
I carry bucks and bloods alone. 
And oh I whene'er the weather's friendly^ 
What mn at Abingdon or Henley, 
But still my vast importance feels. 
And gladly greets my entering wheels ! 
And think, obedient to the thong. 
How yoD gay street we smoke along : 
While all with envious wonder view 
The comer turn'd to quick and true." 
To check an upstart't empty pride. 
Thus sage the One-Horse Chair reply'd. 

1 Blagnrve, well known at Oxford for letting out 
carriages, 1769. W. 
t^Xfttliatoad^BleidiehB. W. 



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ODE TO A GRIZZLE WIG. .... SOLILOQUY. 



" Prty, when the consequence is weigh*(], 
What's mil your spirit and )Nirade ? 
Pnxn mirth ta grief what sad transitions. 
To broken bones and impositions ! 
Or if uo bones are broke, what's worse, 
Yoor schemes make work for Glass and Kourse ^. 
On us pray spare your keen reproaches, 
FrofQ One- Horse Chain men rise to Coaches ; 
If calm Discretion's stedfest hand 
With caations skill the reins command. 
From me fair Health's fresh fountain springs, 
Cer roe soft Sougness spreads her wings : 
And Inoucence reflects her ray 
To gild my calm sequesler'd way : 
Fen kings might quit their state to share 
Comaotment and a One-Horse Chair/— 
What though, o'er yonder echoing street 
Your rapid wteels resound so sweet j 
Shall Isis' sons thus vainly prize 
A rattle of B larger size ?" 

Blagrave, who during the disput* 
ftood in a comer, snug and mute, 
Surpris'd, no doubt, in lofty versa 
To hear bis carriages converse. 
With soleom lace, o'er Oxford ale. 
To me discloa»d this wondrous tale : 
1 straight dispatcb'd it to the Muse, 
Who brush'd it up for Jackson's news. 
And, what has oft been penn'd in prosey 
Added this moral at the close. 

" Things may be nstful, tho» obscure j 
The pace that's slow is often sure : 
When empty pageantries we prize. 
We mast but dust to blind our eyas.* 
Tbe goMeo mean can best bestow 
Ssfety for unsobsfeantial show." 



125 



ODE 

TO A 

GRIZZLE WIG. 

BY A CSNTLXliAlf WBO HAD JUST LEFT OFF HIS BOB 

Ail bail, ye tfurls, that; rang'd in reverend tow, 
TVTth snowy pomp my conscious shoulders hide t 
Thit fisll beneath in venerable flow. 
And crown my brows above with feathery pride ! 
High on your summit, Wisflom's mimick'd air 
Sitsthroo'd, with Pedantry her solemn sire. 
And m her net of awe-diffusing hair 
Eotangies fools, and bids the crowd admire, 
aer every lock, that floats in full display, 
Stge Ignorance her gloom scholastic throws ; 
Asd stamps o'er all my visage,' once so gay, 
Uomeaning Gravity's serene repose. 
Cm thus large wigs our reverence engage ? 
HiTe baibtm thus the pow'r to blind our eyes } 
1$ science thus conferred on every sage. 
By Bayliss, Blenkinsop^ and lofty Wise i ? 
Bat thoQ, forewell, my Bob ! whose thin-wove thatch 
Was ster'd with qu^ and cranks, and wanton wiles, 
Tbat love to live within the one-curl'd scratch. 
With Fan, and all the fomily of Smiles. 



^Sorgeonsm Oxford 

» SmiDeiil perakc-ioaken in Oxford. 



W. 



Safe m thy privilege, near Isis' brook. 
Whole afternoons at Woltercote I quard ; 
At eve my careless round in High-street took. 
And call'd at Jolly's for the casual draught. 
No more the wherry foels my stroke so true : 
At skittles, in a Grizzle, can I play ? 
Woodstock, farewell ! and WaUingford, adieu ! 
Where many a scheme reliev'd the lingering day. 
Such were the joys that ouce Hilario crown'd. 
Ere grave Preferment came my peace to rob : 
Such are the less ambitious pleasures found 
Beneath the liceat of an humble Bob. 



CASTLE BARBEW8 SOULOHUY. 

WRlTraN IN TBI tATl WAt. 

I WBO with such success— alas f till 

The war came on — have shav'd the Castle : 

Who by the nose, with hand unshaken. 

The boldest heroes oft have taken ; 

In humble strain am doom'd to mourn 

My fortune chBng»d, and state forlorn ! 

My soap scarce ventures into froth. 

My razors rust in idle sloth ! 

Wisdom » ! to you my verse appeals; 

You share the griefs your bari)er feels: 

Scarce cotnes a student once a whole age. 

To stock your desolated college. 

Our trade how ill an army suits ! 

This comes of pickiog up recruits. 

last is the robber's occupation ; 

No robbing thrives — but of the nation : 

For hardy necks no rope is twisted. 

And e'en the hangman's self is hsted.— 

Thy publishers, O mighty Jackson I 

With scarce a scanty coat their backs on. 

Warning to youth no longer teach. 

Nor live upon a dsring speech. 

In cassoc clad, for want of breeches. 

No more the Castle-chaplain preaches. 

Oh ! were our troops but safely landed. 

And every regiment disbanded ! 

They'd make, I trust, a new campaign 

On Henley's hill, or Campsfleld's plain : 

Destin'd at home, in peaceful state. 

By me fresh-sbav'd, to meet their fate ! 

Regard, ye justices of peace ! 
Tlie Castle-barber's piteous case : 
And kmdly make some snug addition. 
To better his distrest condition. 
Not that I mean, by such expressions. 
To shave your worships at the sessions | 
Or would, with vain presumption big. 
Aspire to con»b the judge's wig : 
Far less ambitious thoughts are mine. 
Far humbler hopes my views conflne.-— 
Then think not that I ask amiss; 
My small request is only Uiis, 
That I, by leave of Leigh or Pardo, 
May, with the Castle — shave Bocardo «. 

» The governor of Oxford castle. fT, 

« The name of a prison ip ^'^f'^ripV-^z-^rrTp 



Thus, u at tev oft F«e bea^U 
Bough semtowio Wales i««fcnr*d. 
The JoMCB, Moigani. and Ap-Ricei, 
Keep fiddles with their benefiocai 



WAR.TON* POSMS. 



OXFORD NEffSMA}?S VERSES. 

KA THE Y£AR 1760. 

TaniK of the palmi, injr masters dear ! 
That crown this memorable year I 
Come m the glass, mf b««t» €i gold. 
To Britam's heroes brisk and bold ; 
While into rhyme I strive to turn all 
The fem*d events of many a journal. 

France feeds her ions oo meagre sonp, 
>Twas hence they lost their Guadaloup : 
What tho* they dress so fine and ja»nty ? 
They could not keep Marigalante. 
Their forts in Afric could not repel 
The thunder of undaunted Keppel : 
Brave commodore ! how we a4ore jr* 
For giving us suq<»ss at Ooree. 
Tjconderago, and Niagara, 
Make each true Briton singO rare a ! 
I trust the taking of Crown-Point 
Has put French courage out of joi»fc» 
Can we forget the tiipely check 
Wolfe gave the scoundrel^ at Qud>ec * ? — 
That name has stopp'd my glad career,— 
Your foithfiil newsman drops a l«ar! — 

But other triumphs still remain, 
And rouse to glee my rhymes again. 

On Minden's plains, ye meek mounteers 1 
Remember Kingsley's grenadiers. 
You vamly thought to ballarag us 
With your fine squadron off cape Lagos.; 
But when Boscawen came, La Clue « 
Sheer'd off, and look'd confounded blue* 
Conflans \ all cowardice and puff, 
Hop'd to demolish hardy Ditff ; 
But soon unlook'd-for gons o'eraw'd bim> 
Hawke darted ft>rtH, and nobly claw'd him. 
And now their vaunted Formidable 
Lies captive to a British cable. 
Would you demand the glorious cause 
Whence Britain every trophy draws ? 
You need not puzzle long your wit j— « 
Fame, from her trumpet, answers—Pilt 



When «wy netk prodoc'd soae lucky biT, 
And all our paragra^ were plann'd by PitU 
We newsmen dnnk-«as Eaghmd's heroes fotiglit. 
While every victory procnr'd— * pot. 
Abroad, we coiM|Her'd Frai^ ami hambted Spams 
At hoflse, ficb haciiesls csowa'd the laughing plwi. 
Then ran in wuaken free the newsman's versea. 
Blithe waie our hearty and full our leathern pucses. 
But now, no more the stream of plenty flows. 
No more new conquests warm the oewsmaa's nose* 
Our sb^tta'd c O tagcfi admit the rain, 
Our infiinta steetch their hands for bread in vain. 
All hope is fied, our fsmilies are WKtooe ; 
Provisions all aro carr5''d up to Ixmdoa ; 
Our copious granaries disjUUers thin, ' 

Who raise our bread--hut do not cbeapeo gisi. 
Th' effects of expoitatioa slill we me ; 
I wish th' exporters wera exported too ! 
In every pot-house is tv^iaid our score ; 
And generous captain Jolly ticks mo more ! 
Yet still in stoieafgOebftpyiness remains. 
Some triumphs that may grace these annual sftnnf. 
Misfortunes pest no kunger T repeat- 
George has declared— that we aj^Mi shall eal. 
Sweet Willhelminy, spite of wind and tide. 
Of Denmark's monarch shines the blaoiiiiag bridee 
She^sgooe! but tbem'& another in her stead. 
For of a princes* Chaslotte's broaght to bed : — 
Oh, cou'd 1 but have had one single sap. 
One single snifi; at Chadotie^s candle-cap ! 
I heai^-Oodhtess it^lis a eharoing girl. 
So here's her health in half a pint of purl* 
But much I fear, this. rhynse-achaMsted soo^ 
Has kept you from your Ch r iUm a a cheer toa to^ 
Our poor endeavouia view wilA^ graoioiis eye* 
And bake these lines beneath a Choitiiias-pie ! 



FOR THE YF.AR 1767. 

Dismal the news, which Jackson's yearly bard 
Each ciroling Christmas brinjrs,— " The times are 

haid !» 
There was a time when Granby's grenadiers 
Trimm'd the tec'd jackets of the French moanseers ; 

I Before this place feU the brave Wolfe ; yet with 
the satisfaction of first hearing that his troops ware 
victorioas. The other places here enumerated were 
conquests of the preceding year. W. 

« The French admiral. fV. 

' Another Prem^ admiral 9V, 



FOR THE YEAR 1768. 

Still shall the newsman^ annual rh3rmes 

Complain of taxes and the times ? 

Each year our copies shall we make on 

The*prioe of batter, bread, and bacon f 

Forbid it, all je pow»rs of verse ! 

A happier subject I rehearse. 

Farewell distress, and gloomy cares I 

A merrier theme my Muse prepares. 

For lo ! to save us, oo a sudden. 

In shape of porter, beef, and puddfeg. 

Though late, electioneering comes I — 

Strike up, ye trumpets, and ye drums ; 

At length we change our wonted note. 

And feast, all winter, on a vote. 

$ure canvaming was never hotter ! 

But whether Hareoart, Nares. or Cotler >, 

At this grand crisia will succeed, 

We freemen have not jwt decreed. — 

Methinks, with mirtb yaur sides are shakiar» 

To hear us talk of member-making I 

Yet know, that we di^«ct the state ; 

On us depends the nation*s fate. — 

What though some doctor's cast-off wig 

O'ershades my pate, not worth a fig ; 

My whole apparel in decay ; 

My beaid unshav'd— on new-year's day; 

1 Candidates^foc the city, cf Oxford. fT. 

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POEMATA HEJtAVKniA. 



m 



Id mebchoM (U»* Uni** pwUsctor) 
A freemwi, newwnaik and clfsftor ; 
TbiwHfh cold, and nil uwMr my *«« 5— 
My brent for BriUia's freedom gM» i — 
Tboa^ turned, by poverty, my coat. 
It ne'er wm tmuM to give a vote- 

Meantime, howc'er improvM our fate is 
J?r jovial cup«, eadbi evening, yrati^; 
Forget net, 'midst yoat Christmas cheer. 
The customs of the coqainf yev s— " 
Jo answer to this short epistle. 
Your Unkard tend, to wet ouf wbisHe! 



FOB TH£ YEAJR 1770. 



With the Arst iKitnots of the Datk»; 

In sfsritliigh, » podwt l«w^ 

We patriots of the Bu*ohar-n)V* 

Tbos, Uhe out betteis, ask redren 

For high and Vtsfaty irrievanoca, 

Real, tho' pevk^ in rhyme, as thoae 

Which oft onr Joui»»l !••« m proas >— 
•< Ye rarmi 'squires, so phimp and sloek. 

Who Hiwly Ts< Ison, once a week ; 

While nam your bospi hiMe board 

With coM sMoio is amply rtorM, 

And oU October, iiotBMSg»d nice, 

Sead OS a tankard and a sKoe ! 

Ye cooatry panoos, stand our firic^ids. 

While ao« tfaa dririag slael descends ! 

Gite us yom- a at iywtad canes, 

Tohdp us throygk tbe miry lanes; 

Or with a rus^ griazle wig 

This Christmas deign owr pates to ng. 

Ye Boble gern'man of the gown. 

View not onr ▼ersea with a firownl 

Bat, io return for quick dispatches, 

fainte us to yoor bottcry-halcbes ! 

Ye too. whose booses arc so bandy, 

P«r co&e, tea, rorn, wine, and brandy } 

Pride of fisir Oxford's gawdy streets, 

YoQ too oor strain sobmissive greets ! 

Hear Honcnan, Spindlow, Khig. and Harper H 

The weather smc was never sharper i — 

Matnm of matrovn, Martha Baggs ! 

Dnm your poor newsman clad in rags ! 

Dirt mbdnefs folks above are brewing, 

Tbe aation's — maA tbe newsman's ruin ;»- 

lis yoms our sorrows to remove J 

Aod if tkom ge aeio ns ye prove, 

Rjr friends so good w'e'ra bound to pray 

m— ocrt returns n nwa-yaar^ day ! »• 
« Giv*n at oor naelancboly cavern, 
The cellar of tiie Sheep's Head.tavaro." 



FOR THB YEAR 1771. 

DiLidoos n e w s a . war with Spain I 
New rapture fires.oor Christmas stiam. 
B^otd, to strike each Briton's eyes» 
Wbst briglit vietorioos scenes arise ! 
What paraijapbs of English glory 
Wai naster Jackson set before ye ! 

> Kaepeiv of noted cofiee-booses in Oxford. W. 



The govetnopr of Buenos Ayw» 

Shall dearly pay for bis vagaries ; 

For whether North, or wjietber Chatham^ 

ShaU nils the roast, we must have-at-'em : 

Galloons-— Havannah — ^Porto Bello, — 

Ere4oz^ will make the nation maUow :— 

Our late trite themes we view with acorn* 

Bellas the bold, and parson Home : 

Kor more, through many a tedious wintert 

The triumphs of the patriot squioter, 

The ins and outs, wiUi caot eternal. 

Shall crowd each column of our JoumaL— 

After a dreary season past. 

Our turn to live is come at last : 

Gen'rals, and admirals, and JewjB, 

Contr^otorsu printers, men of news. 

All thrive bv war, and line theUr pockets. 

And leave the works of peace to blockbeadl. 

But stay, my Muse, this hasty fit — 
The war is not daclar'd as yet : 
And we, though now so blithe we sing^ 
May all be preaiM to serve the King! 
Therefore, meantime, our masters 4[eai:, 
Produce your hospitable cheer : — 
While we, with much sincere delight. 
(Whether we publish news— or fi^t) 
Like England's undegeoerate soos» 
Will drink— confusion to the I>ons ! 



POfiMATA UEXAMETRA. 

MONS CATHARmm \ 
raopa wimtokiasi. 

Abrii Catharina jugi qu& vertice summo, 
Danorum veteres fossas, immauia castra, 
Et circumducti servat vestigia valli ; 
Wiccamicae mos est pubi, celebrare palaestras 
Multipllces, passiroque levi contendere lusu, 
Festa dies quoties reditt, conccssaque rite 
Otia, purpureoque rubentes lumine soles, 
Invitant, tetricae curas lenire Minervse, 
Librorumque moras, et iniqua remittere pensa* 

Ergo, Cecropise quales sestate cohortes, 
Siquando ceras, nondumque tenacia linquunt 
Mella vags, luduntque fovis ejcamina missa, 
Mox studio majore novos obitura Labores; 
Egreditur pullatum agmen ^ caraposque patentes 
Occupat, iDgentisque tenet spatia ardua clivi. 
Nee mora ; quisque sues mores, animumque fateri, 
Ingeniumque sequi, propriaeque accingier arti. 
Pars aciem instituunt, et justo utrinque phalanges 
Ordine, et adversae positis stant sortibus als. 
His datur, orbiculum metis prohibere propinquis, 
Prscipitique levem per gramina mittere lapsu : 
Ast aliis, quorum pedibus fiducia major, 
Excubias agitare vagas, cursuque citato 
Sectari, et jam jam salienti insistere pracHae ; 
Usque adeo stimulat rapidus globus ire sequaces 
Ancipiti de colle, pilcque volubilis error. 
knpete seu valido elatum, et sublime volantem 
Suspiciunt, pronosque inhiant ex aere lapsus, 
Sortiti fortunam oculis ; manibusque paratis 
Expectant propiorem, intercipiuntque caducum. 

1 This poem was first edited in 1760, after Gray 'a 
0<f< on Eton College, which was written in 1742. 



Digitized by 



Google 



i 



128^ 

At pater Ichmns vii^dantes, Tallibns imH, 
Oak iK&dt salices, subducts in margine ripae. 
Pars vegetos nudant artus, et flumioa saltu 
Suouna p^stUnt : jamque altemis ptacidum ictilms 

sequor 
Id namertim, pedibu9q\ie secant, et remige plants ; 
Jamque ipso penitus merguntur gurgite, prono 
Corpore, spumantemque lacam sub vertice torqueot 
Protinus etnersis, nova gratia crinibus udis 
Nascitur, atque oculis subit6 tnicat acribus ignis 
Laetior, impubesque genoe ibnnosius ardent. 

Interea Ucitos colles, atque otia jussa, 
Illi indignantes, ripas ulteiioris amore, 
Longinquos campos, et noh sua rura capessont 
Sive iilos (qu» corda solet mortalia passim) 
In vetitum mens prona nefas, et iniqua cupido 
Sollicitetf novitasve trahat dulcedine mirA 
Insuetos tentare per avia pascna calles : 
Seu malint secum obscuros captare reces8<l8, 
Secreto faciles babituri in margine Musas : 
Quioquid erit, ctirsu pavitanti, ocuUsque reiortis, 
Fit furtfva via, et suspectis passibus itur. 
Nee parvi stetit ordinibus cessiss^, locumque 
Des^nisse datum^ et signis abiisse relictis. 

Quin lusu inoerto cemas gcstire Miloores ; 
Usque adeo instabiles animos nova gandia lactant ! 
Se salta exercent tario, et luctantur iD herbA* 
Innocuasve edunt pugnas, aut gramine moUi 
Otia aguot fusi, clivisque sob omnibus haerent. 
Ant aliquis tereti ductos in marmore g3rro8 
Suspiciens^ miratur inextricabile testom f ^ 
Sive illic Lemurum populus sub nocte cboreas 
Planserit exiguas, viridesque attriverit herbas; 
Sfve olim pastor fidos descripserit ignes, 
Verbaque difficili compoata reliquent orbe» 
Confusasque ootas, impressaque cespite vota. 

At Juvenis, cui sunt meliores peclore sensus, 
Cui cordi rerum species, et dxdalus ordo, 
Et Utmultum capit, et sublimi vertice solu^. 
Qua lat^ patuere, oculos fert singula circum. 
CoUe ex opposito, flaventi campus arisU 
Aureus, adversoque refulgent jugera sole : 
At procul obscuri fluctus, et rura remotis 
Indiciis, et dlsjunctae jnga caeruta Vectse : 
Sub pedibus, pcrfusa uligine pascua dulci, 
£t tenues rivi, et sparsis froiidentia Tempe 
Arboribus, saxoque rudi venerabile templum 
Apparet, medi& riguas convallis in umbri. 
Turritum, a dextri, patulis caput extnlit ulrois 
Wiccamici domus alma cbori, nottssima Musis : 
Nee procul ampla aedes, et eodem lajta patrono, 
Ingens delubrum, centum sublime fenestris, 
Erigitiir, magnftque micant fastigia mole. 
Hinc atque hinc extat vetus Urbs, oliai inclyta belloj 
£t muri disjecti, ct propugnacula lapsa ; 
Infectiqne Lares, laevisque palatia ducta 
Anspiciis. Nequeunt expleri corda tuendo, 
£t tacitam permulcet imago plurima mentem. 

O felix Puerorum astas, lucesque beats ! 
Vobis dia qnies animis, et tristia vobis 
Noodum soliicitsD subierunt taedia vitae ! 
En ! vobis roseo ore salus, cureque fugaces, 
Et lacrymaB, siquando, breves ; dulcesque cacbinni, 
Et faciles, ultr6 nati de pectore, risus ! 
O ibrtunati nimium I Si talia constent 
Gaudi'a jam pueris, Ichiuum propter amoenum, 
Ah ! sedes ambire novas quae tanta cupido est, 
Dotaleaiqiie domoiDi et promisias Isidjs undas > 



WAWTON'S POEMS. 



Iptos ilia lic^ foBcmido flmnlne ]q<«08 
Pieridum fortunatos^ et opima vireta, 
Irriget, Uiuo par, aut Permessidos amni, 
Et centum ostendet sinuoso in margine turrei^ 



SACELLUM COLL. SS. TOIY. OXON. 
INSTAURATUM, 

SUPPBTIAS rilJBSBBTlM CONFSRSMTS 

RAD. BATHURST, EJUSDKM COLL. PRiES. ET 
ECCLESIiE WELLENSIS DECANO. 

Q0O cultu renOvata dei penetralia, trtsti 
Dudum obducta situ, aenioque borrentia kmgo, 
Sqoallorem exoetiDt veterem, turpesque ienebias ; 
Utque novam faciem, mutataque mania lit^ 
Sampserit instaurata «des, ftpecieque resmrgeni 
Coeperit insoetd pri^com splendescece &nuni, 
Auquce Bathursto carnmus : Tu, Diva, secundum 
Da genium, et quales tpsi Roroana canenti 
Carmina, Nasenb fiscilem si^rantia veoaniy 
BatbarstateDaeraSfLatios concede kpores. 

Quippe ubi jam Graiis moles inoixa coluntnis 
Erigitur nitidae normam tooleaHi COrintbi, 
Vitruviumque refert juatissima fiibrica veruro ; 
Quaque, Hospes, vario mirabere culmina fiGKX> 
Viviite, et omatos muho moUmine muros, 
Olim cemere erat breviori limite dansmn 
Obacurumque adytum ; dubiam cui rara fenestra 
Admisit lucem, rudibus suffusa figuris; 
Quale pater pietati olim sacr&rat avitas 
Popiua, et rite antiquA. decoraverat arte : 
At veteres quondam qnicunque insigniit aras 
Tandem extinctus honos : rerum fortnna subinde 
Tot tulerat revoluta vices, et, certior bostia^ 
Paulatim quassata iatiscere feceret astas 
Tecta mens; quae nunc et Wrenni daedala dextra, 
Et pietas Batbursti aequat pulcherrima ccelo. 

Veri!im agpe, nee fiMoles, Hoapes, piget omnia 
circum 
Ferre oculos. Adsis ; qualisque msptus ab undis 
£neas, Lybioo) postquam suocesaeral urbt, 
Coustitit artificumque manus, operuRique laborem 
Miratus, picloque in pariete nota.per orbem 
Bella, sub ingenti coUustrans singula tempio ; 
Non miniis et donis opalentum,.et nomine plenom 
Suspice majori templum, nitidoqoe receptua 
Vestibulo, quanti pateant spectacnlatorui 
Contemplator, et oppositum caelamine Septum 
Raro interfusum, qualL|»erluceat arte I 
Quels inflexa modis, quo sit perhisa nkove 
Sculptilis, et nimii^m oonspectu lubrioa oedrua ! 
At Cancellontm non enarrabile textum, 
Autumni spoliis, et uinlt4 mease gravatum, 
Occupat in medio, et binas demittit in alas 
Porticos, et plexi prsefixis fronde columnis 
Utrinque incubuit, penetraliqpe Oftia fc^it. 
Nee sua pro foribus desunt, spirautia sig^a, 
Fida satellitia, atque aditom servantia tantnm ; 
Nonne vides fixos in coelum toltere Vultus^ 
Ingentesque Dei monitus hauHre, fideli '^ ' 
£t calamo Cbristom victurts tradere charts f 
Halat opus, Lebanique refert firagrantis odoretn. 

Perge mod6, utque acies amplcctier omnia possit^ 
Te mediis immitte cboris, deJubraque caipe 



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POEHATA HEXAMETRA. 



129 



qoaBqne obvia toi^fere oeniis 
Paoliiper llexo veoeniis altaria vaitu, 
SKlegradiiiii,«tqoeocalos refer ad fiutigiasumina. 
ilic difiaoi vulti^ ardentiaqoe ora, 
Nobilis exprassit calamw, coDluiiique reclusit. 
h me^ domita jam morte, et rictor, Jesus 
iEtberiam molitar iter, neboliaque ctirusds 
iMJiTHM^ repetit patrem, intermissaqQe soeivtra. 
JigBOsoo radiit llagnaitia tempora densis, 
Vuloeraqoe ilia (iie£u !) que ligno maxima fixus 
Victiou sustiilent fotali : iunubilus aether 
Desnper, et purs vis depkiit aorea lucts. 
At TanOf per inane, dei oomitatus, araictu 
Caeieatei fixoue, folgentque iosignibus aiis. 
Oflfcb credas olDots tr«picbre fideli i 
Pifs leqaitiir kmg^ veoeraturque ora volantis. 
Pan aptare humeros Diro^ et substemere Dubes . 
Pttpureas, caroqoe oneri succedere gaudeot 
Cortitiiii, panterqne jarant augetitquetriumphum. 
Kec totom ia taMi est cubnen : quji coerula 
daosit 
Estreoa, atque oras pictuns muaiit aunim, 
Pradaos hinc sew qiecies nitkiiwima rerum 
CtrmqiM explienit, oemeato ducta sequaci. 
TUI opiiBX fiKilea mastam disponere tracta 
CiDait, argiUc seoeraens uTida fila 
MobiCi, ut noUaa noo sii* hiduta figurM 
In qninennqat lem digitus diduoere Tellet 
Kcecopfinus hopes open; sacretaque rite 
Amlam scolptara suaai sibi Tiodicat omnis. 
Priaaa ipaam nireo, ctrcimque saprsque, tabe>l«in 
Pntadt, simiano idtema valumiiia, plexu^ 
FroDdeaqoe intortos prodocit fimbria gyros. 
Kac atqoe Udc patuke pubescunt vimJoa palmoB 
Mvaoes efiina oomas, intektaque pomis 
TopdoUs, Tarioqoe referta umbrscula fcctu, 
Cti pleno inrideat subnitens Copia corou : 
H»€ p rocttd u ntor (lores, polcherrima serta, 
Qaaba irere novo peperit colttssimus bortus ; 
Omen vix vira magis, orieliusve effiogere noVit» 
Bectera acu pollens, calatbisque as»iieta Mioerrse, 
Obbbb ilia hcH, qaot parturit Enoa, colores 
Teaipcfct, expcdiens varib discrimina filis, 
Miftt ano ligeat dires subtemen et ostra ^ 
At oe adem deflecte, tuendi captos amore. 
Iiprii, at diaaa nobes resecare columbam, 
&ap p uaitis fedtqne opifex aliabier aris } 
Bne drciim et Cbristi fatom ref«rentia,^saBv» 
loitniaMatta artis, magnique iongnia Letbi, 
Ai&dit ; infomies cootoil^ cospide clavos, 
^a agiuM c a a capitis spinas, crepitantia flagra, 
Jpsui ctiam, que membra Dei morientis, et ora 
Ben * coUapsa, Crocero, mundique i«tacula gestit. 

Aiqak manDOrets gradibus se mystica meusa 
Sebcigit, et dires dmnt altarc cnioris, 
la, malia marom a t^rgo prsBcioxit amictus, 
Cw tij B q oe trabes, adcer«tque aemula Septi 
Mate i i e a , ponterque poteotis conscia tomi. 
^cnai ipHM evade gradus, nee longiilks ab^tc^e, 
<km p ra p iore oealo, cuptdique iodagiiie visA^, 
Aaffiad gjLp l o r es dlvinom opus Alclniedontis : 
Hk 9tmme§ fbrmae fogiaot, et gratia ligni 
lUB^ p e icmqu e levia ve^^igb fenri 
IMfe, «obtifiaqne lepos iotercidat omnis* 
Mifthri dabit insadbw, arcanaque fila, 
■■n ! Rgtinrnt que vincola tortile buxum, 
ftfMte oolubeot sospensa toreumata nodi ! 
Ak Mi|ae luae Cfescit folioram penalis umbra, 
B pBftila Uabit prooas utrobiqoe corallas, 
I fa i— ig q aa riget baccis. et germioa pandit: 
Vtw^XVJlL 



Qoales e teroti dependent nndique trunco 
Uodantes bederae, et densb coma fceta corjnnbis* 
Inter opus pennatamm paria alma cherub^ 
Ambrosios lucent crines, impubiaque ora. 
In sumnio veneranda calix, tncisaque messts 
In spicam induitur, tnrgeotesque uva raoemos ' 
RasiKs explicoit, sacrse libamina coene. 
Tale decus nunquam impressit candenti elephantOy 
Non Pario lapidi, non flavo Dedalus auro. 
Quale iaber buxo, graeilique in stipite lutit 

Ed verb, tumulum ingentem qu^ proximaclausil 
Testudo, priscae effigies, et biista propinquis 
Non indigna aris ! Salve, sanctissime Popi ! 
Nunc ultro ad cioeres ipsins et ossa parentii 
Adsumos : O salve ! neque enim, pater optime, credo^ 
Elysias inter sedc9, divosque repdstns, 
Et cum dilecto ducens dia otia Moro, 
NegTigis ulteriora pii raonumenta laboris, 
Alterius monumenta maniis, et non tua dona. 
Almc Parens, salvetol Tuum est vestigia vulgl 
Quod fogiam : Tu das inopis cnidelia vita 
Tasdia solari, afflictis spes unica rebus, 
Bt Sinn Aonidum viridantes ire per hortos. 
Te, pater, et fid& tna facta reponere mente, 
Et memor assiduas tibi rit^ resolvere grates, 
Ora puer dnbiA. signans intonsa juventa, 
Coosueram, primis et te venerabar ab annis. 
Nee vano augurio Sanctis cunabula Musis 
Hsec posuisti olim, nee spes frustrata fefellit 
Magna animo meditantem, et pramia lai^ fe« 

ronton : 
Unde tot Aonii stant ordine tempora lanro 
Velati, denoque stems frondis Alumni* 
Alleni remm reserans abstrusa senectus, 
Et torquere sagax rationis lucida tela 
Omnia Qnlvorthus, patriosque recludere ritos 
Seldenus solers, et magnificus Sheldonus, 
Et juga Denhamius monstrans ignota camenis^ 
Tuque etiam, Batburste, potens et mente manuqna 
Palladis execcere artes, unlkque tueri. 
Ergo tibi quoties, Popi, solennia vota 
Ritd repei>damus, propriosque novemus booores. 
Tuque etiam socias, Batburste, merebere laudes, 
Di visum decus, et lauro cing^re secnnd&.— 
Noc te sola Timm, Iic6t optima cura, iaceUum 
Occupat : en! prope plura fecis, nee disparesuinpttt| 
Atria moliris ritu concinna i«centi, 
Summissas propter sedes ; majoraqoe mandas 
Ipsius incremcnta domus, reficiiique Penates. 

Sic ubi, non operosa adeo primordia iassos^ 
Romulus exiguam muro concluserat urbem. 
Per tennes priui6 plateas arx rara micare, 
Ipsaque stramineo constabat regia culmo ; 
At po«tqaaai Augustus rerum Auccessit habenisi 
Continub Parii lapidis candentia luce 
Tecta refuli^re : et Capitolt immobile saxum 
Vertice marmoreo stetit, et laquearibus aurtis« 



ly OBITUM 

CELSISStMI ST DESIDSBATISSlMt 

FREDERIC!, PRINCIPIS WALLIA 

(175L) 

SiT,'Guliebne, tuum medltari Martia facta, 
Turbatasque acies ; sit (as ostendere laoms, 
Anglia quas servata tibi, quas Gallia reddit 
Devicta, et partoi baud uoo ex hosta triomphoi^ 



ISO 



WARTON'8 POEMS. 



Nee minor ioterea est Brumvid a stenyiiate mstM 
Gloria Prmcipibui, cognoscere munera pacii 
Mitia, Pallachasque dami inirarier artes, 
£t qaoe civil'w docuit tapientia mores. 

Heu uli», Fr«dertce, tuisti ! etTequoqiie,dJga«y 
Principe padCero, velaliuDt tempora frondes ; 
£t Te magoa uaneDt, qnanquam baud operosa^ 

tropoBa: 
En ttbi (regales qu4 non insigiMor olla 
Vestit palma comas) at Istos pandat boooras, 
Ed ttbt felicis quae copia CEescat oUvss ! 

Ergo utcunque Tibi dispostas cernere turmas 
Non, Frederice, ftiitcordi, atqoe in rourmuTa Martis 
Hand placutt sublime armis fuigentibos ire ; 
Quill Te diTini correptum rurit amore 
In juga Ctifdenc mult4 frondentia fogo, 
Seu Tbamesio propter,' dilecta per otia Keve 
Coovallem in rigaam, Muss, tna cura, solebaot 
Ducere Pierides, solisqne reconde resylvis. 
Nee tacitas inter reptasti inglorius umbras ; 
Quin patriae placidA meditans in mente salutam, 
Quaerere consueras, fiierit que regia virtus, 
Qus Mens, quique animi regem decuire Britanaum, 
Promisso invigilans regno, sceptrisque ftituris. 

Qualis, qui Curibus parvis et paupere terr4 
Missus erat Priiiceps, sanctos sub nocte silenti 
Cettserai m ktoos ; aderat pia Diva ministrans 
Consilia iEgeria ; incultam queis legibus orbem, 
Effrenos regeret qui rcUigione Quirites, 
'Qak dextri imperii rigidas torqueret babenas. 

Quid referam,ut studio pollens Fredericus in omni 
Jnterea 4igito ottbaram calleret ebumam 
Artifid pulsare, ut suaves edere cantus, 
Queis Thamests mediis stupefactus conatitit andis ? 
Mud firustra berqum meliora exempla secutus, 
Qnonim fama vetus per terras diditiu* omnes : 
Nee fuit indignum £acida, dum moenia Trcge 
Ins^is quateret clypeo, et cielestibus armisy 
Tsdia soiliciti secum testudine belli 
Solari Aonii, et duros mulcevre labores. 
Nee Til, ThebansB gentis fortissime ductor, 
Dedignatus eras divini munera eantAs ; 
Leuctrensi quanquam devinctus tempora lauro. 

Quid memorein,PbcelH fuerant ut semper apudTe 
Munera, iauri vis, et suave rubens byacintbus } 
O pater, O pneseos nuroen, Frederice, poetis ; 
Ut tibi Calliope Penqjessi iospersa liquore 
Monstravit Demora, et formaw jugera CirriuB : 
Ut eupidum Pindi immisit rorantibus antris» 
Antique felicem et laudis et artis aluimium } 
Talibus Auspiciis et tanto Principe firetum. 
Quid minun est Tempestates mutabilis amii 
Thomsooum tam jocundo cecinisse lepore, 
Horrida quid meditetur Hyems»que purpureomVer 
Germina pn^eoeret, quas frondes explicit iEstas, 
£t quantis Autumni exultet pampious uvis i 

O (quin fiita obstant!) si nunc foret ipse superstesl 
Munifid desiderio perculsns Amici, 
Quam memori officio fudisset aobile carmen ; 
Quam Tibi Pierio deeor&sset funera fletu, 
Triste ministerium baud bumili molitus bonore ; 
Quam bene lecta Tibi Studio, Frederioe, fideli 
Ferret in exequias vaHarum dooa rosarum, 
Et digna aagustis inspergiserta sepulcbris ! 

Interea tenues tumulo quas, impare Musi^ 
Mittimus inferias, non duro respice vultu, 
Parce pio vati, et Aivea3 levioribus ausis. 
Quin mibi supremum fiu sit dixisse, Valeto; 
O longiim, Fredence, valeto ; O iodyte Prioceps 



O valeas, frastra Angfiaci ^adematii bares ! 
Nee sand accepit graviut, propiusve neddUsi 
Per fiutos tot retro, infelix Anglia vubias ; 
Ex quo, Cressiaci media inter festa triampbi, 
Atque Equitum antique sodalia praodia ritu. 
Ante diem Edvardus cecidit, flnitantia latd 
Vexilla, et fusds que feoeret aeer in amis, 
Vinsorie ostentant sedes, perque Atria looga 
Regiflce exultant spoUis rictribia aices. 



EPIGRAMMATA. 



IN HORTO SCRIPT: 

Vos O que socijs plicata ramit 
Ulmi bracbia panditis geaaeUe, 
Horti ddieie, decnsqua parvi I 
Dum vicioa apiom cobora par beiina 
Fragrantes medio strepit sob eatUy 
Fratemis toeamini oragistnia 
Vos sub frondibas, Attid leporia 
Auciores Latiive leetitantem i 
Lustraptemve ocnlo licentiori 
Colles oppoittos, apnea mia, 
Lat^ nndantibiis obsitoi ariitiiy 
Tectosqua aeriii topenie fiigkb 



EPITAPHIUMK 

CoMJOZ chara vale I tibi Maritm 
Hoc pooo memori manu sepulcrom $ 
At quales lacrjrmas tibi rependam, 
Dum tristi recdo, Susanna, oorde, 
Quim coDstans, animo naqoa impotant^ 
Tardi sustuleras acuta letbi. 
Me spectans placidis tupremi^m ooaUk I 
Quod si pro mentis vel ipse flerem. 
Quo fietn tua ta rdicta proles. 
Proles parvula, riti prowquetor, 
Custodem, sociam, discern, parentam I 
At quorsum lacryme ? Valeto rar» 
ExempAum pietatts, O Sosamia I 

I At Wynslade, tbe reslflence of bis btotiiar. 

s Tbe sutject of tbb degant and truly dasncaL 
epigram was Susannab, first wife of Peter Serle, esq. 
of Little Testwood, in tbe parisb of Eling* Hants. 
It is inscribed i^itb some variations, in the parisb- 
cburcb of Eling, on a plain marble tablet ; abova 
wbich on a pedestal is a female bust, and bakmtha 
arms of Mr. Serie and bis wife, by wbicb aha appear^ 
to bave been of tbe fomity of sir i ' S tonboase, 
bart of B^rfcsbire. Tbemooument beam the nam^ 
of Ml. Rj^rack. Sbe died on tbe l^tb of Nbvami 
ber, 1753, in tbe tbirtietb year of her age. Mr^ 
Warton in return for tbis epitapb recetved an aci 
knowledgament finm Mr. S«rla ol SQ, og lOQ 
guioeasA Mamw 

Digitized by VjOOQ IC 



OR£CA ATQUE ANGUCA QU^DAM LATINE REDDITA. 131 



APUiyHORTUM JUCVNDmmUM 

Si quattt gratia rhruli perennis, 

Ripts qai properat loquax per udat : 

Si quis gramiiico nttor vireto, 

Kuisve ID spatiis quid est atnceni ; 

Aut liquod, fruticum tenelluloniiny 

IUrisn«ciculis et hinc et iode 

Fraodeatun, tenues brervsqae sylvs, 

Ftusiflt pondere daedali colons ; 

Qnin, ri floritras, angulos per omnes. 

Quod dulcedinis est tine arte sparsis; 

Cam erebrii saluberrimis et herbts ; 

Hooc, hospes, leptdum potabia boftum. 

At nee delicijB, Kcet suiives. 

Tales te poterit did tenere, 

Quin mirmbere, qu» micant ntrinqae 

Tet^a ingeotia, maximumqne templam 'p 

Aotiqanmque larem decus camenis ^. 

Hac dum pro$picias, jngi tacrati ' 

Sob divo aocipiti, dooms BQperbae 

Olim, fragmina Tasta, dimtasque 

Area ; ah memor, hospes, esto^ at ipts, 

Quas BUDC cgregio vides deooras 

Cdta, et magnificas, utrinque moles, 

]to traiisse queaot parem ruinani, 

Et nrasoo jacnnt situque pleoae ; 

QoamTis utraque Wiccamiis bea^ 

Did feoerit auxeritqne sumtil, 

Te, Pboebi domus alma; teque templum, 

Catom rargcre jnaserit cohimnil. 



INSOMmJMK 

Soim veiii,et quanqoam certissima mortis imago es, 
Coiaortem cnpio te tanoen esse tori ! 

Hoc ades, band abiture dto: nam sic sine vita 
Vivere, quam iaave est, sic sine morte mori. 



ar/ FIT, MJECENAS, i^c 5. 

Cnt Joreois nostras siibij|t novas advena sedes, 

Oontiouo Popi prcmia magna petit : 
Donde pOlens voti qaiddam sublimius ambit, 

fit socii lepidum munus ioire cupit ; 
Atnciiis mavult transire ad rura sacerdos ; 

Arridetqae oxer jam propriique lares : 
Ad ns transmisso, vitam instaurare priorem 

Atqae iterom Popi tecta sobire juvat 
pectm mire varium et mutabile ! cui son 

QoBqoe petita placet, nulla potitli placet. 

I The Cathedral. < The College. 

>St Giles's hill; at the foot of which are the 
raaais of WoWesey Palace, formerly the magnifi- 
ceat residence of the bbbops of Winchester. 

* Tins inscriptioo is said to have been intended to 
be placed under a statoe of Somnus, in the garden 
of the late Jamca Harris, esq. of Salnbury. It has 
to Mr. Wartoo, but on doubtful 



GRiECA ATQUE ANGLICA 

QUiEDAM 
LATINE REDDITA. 

HOMERl HYMSUS AD PASA. 

En ! tibi, Pan, summi colles, et maxima parent 
Culmina, pnecipitesque nivali vertice rupes. 
Tu pater, incedens virgulta per avia, mentem 
Oblectas lapsu fiuviorum len^ cadentdm. 
Sive errare relis per vasta cacumina, ma^oi 
Unde procul patu^re preges, atque otia dia 
Pastorum ; capreasve agites indagine densft, 
Seu redeas squultens variarum cs«le ferarum. 
At simul ex alto subUixit vesper Olyinpo, 
Tale melos suavi diifundis arundine, quale 
Non, Philomela, facit, qlioties frondentibus umbris 
Abdita, vere novo, integral miserabile carmen. 
Continuo properant faciles in carmina Nyrophse, 
Instaurantque chores ; &altantibus adsonat Echo. 
In medio Deus ipse inOexos orbibus orbes 
Insequitur, quatiens maculoss tegmina lyncis : 
Sub pedibusque croci crescunt, dtilcesque hyacinthi* 
Floribus et variis viridis distioguitur bcrba. 
luterei cecin^re Deiim primordia'prisca : 
At primi!kin dix^re, ut, DivQtn nuntius Hermes 
Venerit Arcadis fines, pecorisque feraces 
Formosi campos, et prata recentia rivis. 
Qu4 nunc illi arae, quit stant Cyllenia templa. 
lUic, divino lic^t ingens esset honore, 
Pavit oves, nam jussit amor ; votisque potitus 
Egregiam Dryopen in vincla jugalia duxlt. 
Nascitur bine proles visu miranda, bicomis 
Capripes ; ipsa novo nutrix exterrita f(£tu 
R^tit, hirsutique infaotem corporis horr^ns. 
At pater exultans villosi pelle revinctum 
Montani leporis puerum, fulgentibus astris 
IntuUt, et solium Jovis ad sublime Wavit 
Excipiunt plausu Super! ; subrisit lacchus 
Purpureo vultu, et puerum Pan nomine diiut. 



EX POEMATE 

DB VOLUPTATIBUS FACULTATfS 

IMAGINATRICIS ». 



-O Progenies pulcherrima cell ! 



* T^csa are ^le orifinal verses 00 which The Pro- 
frai of Dbeontent was foanded. 



Quo tibi succorum tractu, calamique labore, 
Divinos ducam vultus, cslestiaque ora ? 
Unde legam qui. Diva, tuis certare colores 
Purpurei possiut, discrimina dsedala fuci ? 
Ergo age, Musa, vago cursu per maxima mundi 
I spatia ; et quicquid formosi florida tellus, 
Quicquid habent maria, et cxli spirabite lumen, 
Delibes ; quicquid nitidum natura recondit 
Dives opum variarum, in amabile, Musa, fideli 
Confer opus studia Seu liberioribus alls 
Vin', comite Autumno, per fortunata volare 
HesperidOm nemora, et dias Atlantidos oras, 
Dum quacunque Pater fisecundo poll ice lucum 
pelicem contingit, opacis gratia ramis 
pit nbva, et auricomo fuU^runt vimina foetu : 

^ The Plcanires of Imagtoatiou, B. i. ver. 2S0. 

Digitized by VjOOQ IC 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



in 

Quicnnqoe mcnsit per ditia rara, renident 
Undique roaturo subiti livore racetni ; 
Apricoeque reccns iufecit purpura colles, 
Quales occiduo nubes qaae sole coruscant. 
Si?e erraitj velis, rjjcua convalle, per umbras 
Daphnes dilectas, Pendns gurgite leni 
Qui fluit, ostentatque reflexain e flumioe Teaape 
Purpuream ritreo ; — ^Tcmpe ! qui. numina sylyis 
Kota-olim, Fauni Nymphsque, per aurea prisci 
Secula Satumi, seoreto in margine rtpa 
TitHHliferaD, socio ducebaut Pane choreas 
MuUipiices. At salUntum vestigia propter, 
Horasque, Zephyrosque almos, uilo imbre, videres 
Certatim ambrosios rores, et odoriferum thus, 
Pcpluese, Elysicque rubent quicuuque colores. 



EX POEMATE DE 
RATIOSE SJLUTIS COXSERVANDJE K 



1 



Ergo agite, O Nympha*, integros ostendite fontes; 
Egelidasque domes, rigui penetralia regni, 
Naiades aperite ! per avia tesqua vagari, 
Vobis nota, aveo : videor resonantia iixis 
Tlumina prseruptis. scatebrasque audire reclusas. 
Sancti percuUus mentem fonnidine, rupes 
Prospicio, qu4 vorticibus spumantibus aranes 
Insignes micudre, antiquo carmine clari. 
Ante omnes, ingens, scopulis plangentibus, exit 
Nilus ; at iratis properat violentior undis 
Hinc Padus; iude jugis Euphrates Oceano par 
Volvitur umbriferis, Orientemque irrigat omnem. 
At secnm, ssBYoque procul resupiuus in antro, 
Squallentem Tanais diffudit barbarua umam. 
Quantis sub tenebris, quam Tastis obruta silvis 
Undique, conduntur fluTioruro exordia prima 
Nobiliiun ! Ergo animum permista horrore voliqptas 
Peroijiit, et sacro correpunt ossa pavorc : 
Et magis, atque magis, dir& fbrmidine circiliin 
Vroodiferi horrescunt luci, ramisque patescit 
Altius, et majori atrum nemus accubat umbrd. 
Bicite, num LemnrOm regio stat finibns istis- 
Abdita; } qusnam biBC ignoti pomoeria mundi ? 
Qui poputi ? QuKve arva viria exercita ? siqus 
Talia tnins deserta sapersint anra colenda. 
O ubi camporum tarn nigris faucibus antrum 
Porrigitur f Tanto specus ille immanis hiatu 
Fertur in informem Phfegethonta, an amoena vireta 
Fortunatorum nemorum ! per opaca locorum 
Ducite voS, dubiosque pedes fimaetis eunti : 
Munera vestra cano ; nam jussit talia Pason, 
Taiia, diva Sal us ; ct versu pandcre conor, 
Quid lymphli liquido ficrive potest elen»ento t 
Quo nihil utilius mundi fert dsdala moles. 
'' Mirus qu'.ppe latex it mobilis midique ; gemmis 
Lumine dat radlarc vago ; dat quercubas alUs 
Sevas mdignari ljycmc<!, et temnere ventos ; 
Dat scintillanti tenuissima spicula vino : 
Et vehit et »?enerat speciei alimenta cuVque, 
Et vltnm, sea qxi8B spirobiljs setheris auii 
Vescitur^ irriguiave virescit florida campis» 

> The Art of Presenrii^ Health. B. ii. ver. 352. 



pisDARi PYTHioma r. 

nisRONi Knxo sraxcusio cnaatr vicr. 

TssTuno filis apta nitentibus, 
Quam lit^ servat Pieridum chorus, 
Tu cantilenam, tu sequaces 
EgregiA regis arte gressus ! 
Perculsa plectro leniter aureo 
Pronum corusci fulminis impetun 
Tu sibtis, setemaeque flamms 
Prsecipites moderaris ictus, 
AHs relapsis, fusa Joyis super 
Sceptro, volucris regia stemitur 
Sopore praedulci, carentque 
Rostra minis, oculique flammis. 
Quin Mars reponens aspera spicula. 
Post pulverem certaminis ardui, 
Oblectay O Phoebea proles. 
Cord a tuo truculenta cantu. 
At quos beniguo numine Jupiter 
Non vidit, illos, canninis audiaut 
Siquando divini levamen, 

Horror agit pavidusque luctus .- 
Qualis Typhoeus, sub barathro jaceus 
Imo, supremis improba centioeps 
Quod bella t)ivis intulisset 
Haemonio genitus sub antro. 
Quern nunc ligatum Cuma cubat super, 
I^ectusque setts comprimit borrtdiim 
Columna cmli, que perenni 
Stat glacie, nlvis JGtna nutrix : 
Et nunc procellas evomit igneas, 
Fumosque, mistro turbine, bellua 
Vulcani, et horrendum rubescunt 
Nocte procul jaculata saxa : 
Immane dictu prodigium ! Mare 
Siquis propinquam transeat, ut Typboa 
JEtnx sub antris illigetur, 
Difficilique fremat cubili ! 
Hoc me solutum crimine fac, Pater, 
Cui paret iEtns frondeus ambitus, 
Froiis fertilis telluris, ingens 
Urbs titulos tuHt unde magnos ; 
Qu^ nuntiatum est quale Hiero ederet 
Certamen, acres victor agens equos, 
Quantusque succussis, rotanim 
Arbiter, institerit quadrigis ^. 



EVRIPIDIS jfNDROMACHA. 

VEtt. 102. 

ANDROMACHE LOQUITUK. 

Cum Paris, O Helena, te celsa in Peigama duxit, 

Et miser illicitos jnssit adire toros, 
Heu ! non conjtigii laeti florentia dona, 

Quin secum Alect6, Tisiphonemquc, tolit. 
lUius ob Furias, fidens Mars mille carinis 

To circam rutili^ Troja, dedit facibus ! 
Illius ob Furias, cecidisti, care marite. 

Hector 1 Achilleis raptc, marit«, rotis t 
Ipsa autem e thalamis agor ad cava littora pooti, 

Servitii gravida nube adopeita caput. [que, 

Ah! mihiqaeitiUaiitlacryms! TrojaiDque,Wnii»- 



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'"^^m 



GR;ECA ATQUE ANGLICA QU;EDAM LATINE REDDITA. J33 



Ft fnedo ibsum in pulvere linquo Tirum I 
Quid jurat ulterii^s ca^li convexa tueri ? 

5>cilioet Heroiiouori sordida serva feror : 
Et Thetidos compiexa pedes, liquefio, pereonis 

Qualis pnccipiti quae phiit unda jugo. 



MELEAGRl EPITAPHWM 
IN UXOREM. 

IX ASniOLOCIA, MB. III. CAP. 3Ui. EP. 22. 
BKUKCK. AVAL. V. I. p. 30. 

Mnro tibi Uciymas, O Hcliodora, stib Orcum, 

In ienebris long^ mittn tibi lacrjmas. 
Ah tript«s lacrymas, libata in flebjle bustum 

£t desiderii dona, et amoris babe ! 
Te cpebro, crebroque, meamqne a luroine cassam 

Defleo ; qua Diti gratia nulla Deo est — 
O ubi jucundus mihi flosculns ? abstulit Orcus.— 

Fo^davit vegetum pulvere gcrmen humus. 
Quare, terra tuum est amplectier ossa repostas 

MoUit^r, & Ado salva fovere sinu. 



jiNTlPATRI THESSALONIC. 

IN TEMPERANTUM. 

& Anthol. I. Ixxviii. 1. B^unck, II. 151. 

His natam Antigenes orabat voctbus olim 
^▼i cum traheret fila suprcma aenex : 

** O Virgo formota, O dulcis nata, minister 
Vit:e inopb semper sit tibi cure colas. 

Hox cum te sociarit H3rmen, tua maxima dos sit, 
Te cast« mores matris habere probos.'' 



CARPHYLID^. 

Ex Akthol. III. i. 6. BauNCK, IL 401. 

Mbam praBteriens, Viator, umam, 
HoQ est, quod lacrymi riges sepultum ; 
Nam nil et mihi mortuo dolendum est 
CoQJux una mihi, fuitque fida, 
QqA cum consenni ; dediqne natot 
Tres in foedera fausta nuptiarum ; 
Ex qtieis, sspe mihi in sinu tepenti, 
Sofrivi pueros puellulasque : 
Qui tandem, inferiis mihi relatis, 
Mis^re ambrosios patrem sopores 
Dormitum, Elysii virente rip&. 



CALLIMACHI IN CRETfflDA. 

Ex AwTHOL. III. xii. 53. Bruuck, I. 474. 

DocTA est dulce loqni, poellulasque 
Inter lodere docta perveoust^ ; 
Te, Crethi, Samis tuse reposcunt ; 
Cujus garrulitate mollicelli 
Suerent laoifict levare curas. 
At tu sarda jaces ; trahisque somoos 
OiDCtis denique, Crethi, dormiendot ! 



INCKBTI I 

IN CIIIO, 
Ex Anthol. Csphal. No. 648. 

OMITTED BY BRPNCK. 

Ergo te nitldae decus palsestrae, 
Te laetum validoc labore hictas, 
P.t perfusa oleo videre membra, 
Nunc, Protarche, pater tej^t sepulchro, 
Congestisque rccondit 06sa saxis ? 
Necdum filiolae modo peremptse 
Cessit cure ret^ens, novique luctus 
Acer funeris, O lidelis uxor, 
Te praereptA etiam parique fato. 
At postquam ferus Orcus hausit, et spes 
Et solatia vos gravis senects, 
HuDC vobis lapidem memor repooit. 



LEONIDM 
Ex Anthoi- VI. xxiv. 2. Bbvnck, I. 229. 

SuspF.NSAM e Platano Telcson tibi, Capripes O Pan, 

Pellem villosae dat, pia dona, fere ; 
Curvatamque caput, nodoso e stipite, davaa. 

Quae mod6 depuisi fcrda cruore lupi est ; 
Concretoque aptum lacti mulctrale, et odorot 

Queis tenuit clauses, ferrea vincia, cases. 



TUMVLVM ARCHILOCHl. 

Ex Anthol. III. xxr. 20. Biomck, II. 16T. 

Hic est Arcbilochus situs. Veneoe 
Primus novit amara viperino 
Qui contbigere carmina ; et cmore 
Permessi liquidas notavit undaa. 
Testis, qui tribus orb«8 est puellk, 
Suspensis laqueo tr«ei, Lycambei, 
Tu cauto pede pr»teri, viator, 
Crabones aliter ciebis, ejus 
Qui busto sibi condidere nidom* 



IN CICADAM. 

Ex Anthoi. I. xxxiii. 25. Brunck, IIL 239. 

Cur me pastores foliorum abducitis umbrd. 

Me, quam ddectant roscida rura vagam ' 
Me, qua? nympharum sum ^f usa, atque rethere sude> 

nine rccino umbrosis saltubus, inde jugis ? 
£n ! turdum et memlam, si pmedae tanta cupido est. 

Quae late sulcos diripuere satos. 
Qus vastant fru^, captare et fallere fas est; 

Roscida non adidae sufficit herba mihi. 



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134 



WARTOire POEltfS. 



JNTIPATRI THESSALONICENSrS. 
Ex Akthol. Cephal. No. 749. Brukck, 11. 115. 

Te, verso properentem hostili ex agmioe tergo,' 

Trajecit ferro vindice mtter atrax ; 
Te tua, qoflB peperit, mater : gladiumqne recenti 

SpumanteiD paeri sanguine crebra rotans, 
Dentibus et graviter stridens, qiialisque Lacsna, 

Igne retr6 torquens Inmma glaoca i^ro, [Orcum 
" Linque, ait, Eurotam : et si mors est dura, sub 

Effuge : non meus es ; ntm Lacedaemonius.*' 



CALLIMACHI IS HERACLITUM. 

Ex Anthol. III. xxxiii. 37. Bbvnck, L 472. 

Te tristi mlhl noper, Heraclite, 

Fato succubuisse nunciatum est ; 

Quo rumore misellus impotentes 

Fui in lacrtmulas statim coactus : 

Recordabar entm, loquel& ut oKm 

Dulci conAieramus ambo longos 

Soles fallere, fabnlisque crebris. 

Yenim Tu, vetus hbspes, O ubinam— 

Ah dudum— in cioeres redacte dudum ! 

Nunc jaces, vetus hospes, urbe Carilm ! * 

TuaB LusciniiB tamen supersunt ; 

lUiS, omnia qui sibi acrogavit, 

Haud Pluto injiciet manus rapaces. 



ADDITIONS TO WARTON'S POEMS. 



A SONG. 

lyiTATEft FROM THE MIDSUMMER NIGHT^S DREAM OP 
SHAXtPBARE, ACT II. SCENE T. 

(From the Museum 1746.) 

Lo here, beneath this hallowM shade 

Within a co«8)ip*8 btossom deep, 
The lovely queen of Elvet is laiil, 

May nought disturb her bahny sleep. 
Let not the snake or baleftil toad 

Approach the sHent PM i iw io n near, 
Or newt profane the sweet abode. 

Or owl repeat ber orgies here ! 
Ko snail or worm shall hither come 

With noxious fiHh her bowV to stain : • 
Hence be the beetle*s sullen hum, 

And spider's disembowePd. train; 
The love-lorn nightingale atone 

Shall thro' Zitania's arbour stray^ 
To sooth her sleep with meltin;? moan. 

And lull her with his sweetest lay. 



VERSES ON MISS COTES K 

FIRST PUBLISHED AROKYMOVtLY tM 1749. 

To trivial nymphs while Oxford's tasteless swains^ 
With fond consent, address their trivial strains, 

* Miss Cotes was the eldest daughter of Digby 
Cotes, public orator, and principal of Magdalen 
Hall ; and Miss Wihnot the beautiful daughter to 
Wilmot the bookseller^ now a widow. 



That toasted stdl by ev'ry sighing smart. 
Have claim'd midoubted role o'er ev'ry bent; 
Still usher'd by a tram of pow%r*d sparks, 
Queens of the Mall, and hackney'd hi the parks ; 
Tis ours to disregard the public voice. 
Where fiuhion gives the sanction to the choice : 
Tis ours thy beauties, lovely Cotes, to bbast. 
Where matchless merit justifies the toast 
Let Wilmofs cheek be deck'd with brighter dyes. 
And keener glances beam from Boacber^s eyes ; 
Let Wilmot boast ihc just hannonious grace. 
And all the fisultless symmetry of face | 
In these alone 'tis some disUnguish'd part. 
Some fav'rite feature, that can charm the heart. 
'Tis not thy shape alone that strikes the sight. 
Nor melting eyes, with mildest azure bright ; 
Tis not thy bosom, white as foiling snows. 
Nor hair, that loose in golden ringlets flows 
(Though each onr aro'rous hearts a beauty call). 
But the joint force and full result of all ; 
Awl thy fair form our raptor'd bosoms wannt 
With all the graceful negligence of charms. 
Add, that 'tis thine in ev'ry step to please. 
Where dignity conspires with winniojg ease. 
With double arts you lure us into love. 
You shine like Venus — and like Venus move. 
Add, that the Graces give the taste refin'd. 
And dec|c with sweetest sentiments thy mind : 
Nor more thine hours the toilette's cares engage 
Than the soft raptures of the polish'd page. 

Blest are the sons of Maudlin's learned dome. 
Fast by wliose seats the foir has fix'd her home ; 
On whom thine eyes their strongest hiflueiioe beuD, 
Thou lovely qtieen of Cherwdl's n\ver tftnmm ! 
Yet, ah I nnblest the aoiis of Maudlhi'g dome, 
Fast by whoM seats the fkir has fix'd her home) 
They fall a vitthn to the neighb'ring datne, 
Nor Cherwell's streams can cool the lagfog flame $ 
From thy bright eyes the stn^e of hte receive. 
And for the beauteous Cotes their Pallas leave. 

ftleantime.while us the Fates have doom'd to pine. 
Remote, and absent from thy form divine. 
Thy charms transfix <^rbleedSlig hearts al&e, 
ReachAhough remote, and at a distance strike. . 
In vain fix>m beauty*^ influence i^e retire. 
Thine eyes overtake ns like the lightning^ fire. 

What though nor we the brisk champalgne can 
boast. 
When, lovely C6tes, thy favVite name we ttoast j 
Thy fav'ritc name, like Phoebus' nys divine. 
Imparts new flavour, and improves the wine. 
That, when thy beauties consecrate the glass, 
Our humble port for brisk champaigne may paak 

Meantime forgive the poet of thy praise. 
That fondly still prolongs his humble lays. 
Yet think not, fiiir-one, that my lays detain 
(Though void of art) those killing eyes in vain ; 
Those kil^g eyes are here less fatal found. 
For, while my lays they read, they cease to wound. 



VERSES ON MISS WILMOT. 

O'er Isis' bloeming banks, with busy care, 
I sought to find the naost distingutsh'd fair. 
To crop the softest flow'r, with eager feet 
I trac d each vale, and rov'd o*er ev'ry sweet. 



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HIGHSTREET TRAGEDY, 



155 



While all mround luuramber'd charms disclose, 
Pride of the baok, the beauteons Wilinot rose. 

Not by vain chanofl, wbich valgnr beauties boast, 
Wilmot aaserts her title to the toast. 
The lif ht coquette attempU with little arts. 
Whene'er the Mall she treads, to gaio our hearts ; 
She fnmes a various train of winninz wiles. 
Governs each glance and disciplines her smiles ; 
Each duteous curt'sy dnips with studied care. 
And lifts her hoop with most inviting air ; 
She learns to broube the gentle am*roui sigh. 
And all the conduct of the rolling eye ; 
Now kindly leers upon the parsing swain. 
Now tbo coy look affects of cold disdain ; 
She learns th* alluring lisp, the graceful start, 
E ich step, design, and ev'ry motion, art : 
But, ah ! how rain the seft deceit is found ! 
Sbe gives no wounds, because she means to wound. 

But, when bright Wiimot's faultless form is seeu, 
Moviof in all the majesty of mien. 
How soon edips'd retires each light coquette ! 
How soon before her sun each star is set < 

WtMte'er inspired immortAl Raphael's mind. 
In nunmer eve, on balmy banks reclin'd ; 
lillien glowM his mind with images of grace, 
Stodioas a sea-botn Venus' form to trace ; 
When all the goddess rushed upon his view. 
Fresh from the ware, and wet with ocean's dew ; 
In WilnotV form with mingling charms umte. 
And all that's beauteous pours upon the sight 
Fresh as the primrose mead, or blushing rose. 
With native charms each gentle feature glows. 
ftit tkougfa the budding rose ber cheeks adorn, 
Like that they wound— and bear a £stal tbonu 
Her fuce a miracie of beauty fills. 
Softness that wounds, and innocence that kills. 
If fix'd oo earth ber bashful eyes are found, 
Ia PbcBbos' rays descending strike the ground ! 

HHber, bright maid, a youthful breast to warm, 
With aspect mild incline thy lovely form ! 
Oh ! let me view those lips profiise of sweets. 
Where softest beauty with peivuasion sits ! 
Haste, let me weave a fragrant flow'ry crown* 
To biad thy iowing k)cks of glossy brown : 
Still let me gaze upoo'that brsast divine. 
Where, in sweet union, all the graces join; 
Where each delight that fieuicy forms is seen, 
Witfaoyty all beauty, and all truth within ! 

While Wilmot's charms my glowing thoughts 
engage. 
Adieu the midnight lamp, <he painful page. 
Her charms each useful sentiment im|iart. 
And still refine as thiey hnprove the heart : 
For, more instructive are her beauteous looks, 
Than all the learned indolence of books. 
Tis her's alone, with sweet prevailing ease. 
At once to teach and charm, instruct and please. 

While thns thy poet, in uopdish'd verse. 
Dares all tby tempting graces to rehearse ; 
While in my strains thy blooming beauty lives. 
And, what the Muse denies, a V>nas gives ; 
Queen of my song, O deign a kind regard, 
And crown with laurel-wreith tby humble bard ! 
Long have thy charms my captive heart detain'd. 
And long my soot in love's soft fetters chain'd : 
Reward in land return these duteous lays, 
Or gite OK back oiy heart— or give the bays. 



THE MAIDEN'S BLOODY GARLAND, 

OS 

HIGH-STREET TRAGEDY. 

Showing how Sarah Holly, a poor unfortunate ser- 
ving-maid of the city of Oxford, being wronged 
by her sweet-heart, cut her throat from ear Ut 
ear, was next momin): found dead in her bed, 
and afterwards buried in the king's high-way. 

[From Brydges' Censura Literaria, vol. ii. — Sarah 
Holly was maid servant to Goddard, a hatter 
and hosier at the sign of the GoMoa Leg m 
the High -street Oxford. She actually destroyed 
herself as is here recited, in consequence of 
her lover's perfidy, and was buried in the 
high-way in All Saints Lane, with a stake driv- 
en through her body, which remained for a 
day or two. — Dr. Warton thought that a Mr- 
Thorp took part with his brother in this mge- 
nious imitation of the Newgate ^litties.] 

TUNE— 73ler^ were three pUgrimt, 

A MOURNFUL ditty I will tell. 
Ye knew poor Sarah Holly well. 
Who at the Golden Leg did dwell, 

He'igh-ho, Hdgh-hol 
She was in love, as some do say. 
Her sweet-heart made her go astray. 
And at the hist did her betray. 

Heigh-ho, &C. 
The babe within her womb did cry : 
Unto her sweet-heart she did hie. 
And tears like rain fell from her eye. 

Heigh-ho, fca 
But oh ! the wretch's heart was hsnd. 
He to her cries gave no regard, 
" is this," says she, " my love's reward ?»* 

Heigh-ho, &c. 
" Oh ! woe is me 1 I am betray'd! 
Oh had I liv'd a spotless maid, 
1 ne*er with sobs and sig bs had said 

Heigh-ho, &c. 
** But now I'm press'd with grief and woe. 
And quiet ne'er again can know, 
God grant my soul to Heaven may go, 

Heigh 'bo, &c. 
" For I my wretched days must end. 
Yet e'en for thee my pray'rs I'll send, 
1 die to all the world a fnend." 

Heigh-ho, &c 
Tlten to her friends she bid adieu. 
And gave to each some token true. 
With, ** lliink on me when this you view." 

Heigh-ho, &c. 
Unto the ostler at the Bear, 
She gave a ringlet of her liair. 
And said, ** Farewell, my dearest dear." 

Heigh-ho, &c 
O then to madam Luff she said — 
" To morrow mom come to my bed. 
And there you'll find me quite stoi^ d^d." 

Heigh-ho, &c. 



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136 



WART0NT5 POEMS. 



Too trae she spoke, it dkl appear, 

Next mora tbey call*d, she could not hear : 

Her throat was cut from ear to ear. 

Heigh-bo, &c. 

No spark of life was in her shown, 

Ko breath they saw, nof heard a groan. 

Her precioDS soul was from her flown. 

Heigh-bOy &c; 

She was not as I once hare seen 
Her trip in Martin-Oanlens green, 
With aproo starch'd and ruffles clean. 

Heigh*-ho, &c 

With bonnet trimM, and flounced and all. 

Which they a dulcimer do call. 

And stockings white as snows that fkW. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 

But dull was that black laughing eye. 
And pale those lips of cherry-dye. 
And set those teeth of ivory. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 

Those limbs which well the dance have led, 
When Simmons Buttcr'd Pease hath played. 
Were bloody, lifeless, cold and dead. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 
The crowner and the jury came. 
To give their rerdict on the same : 
Tbey doom'd her hapless corpse to shame. 

Heigh-ho, &c 

At midnight, so the law doth say, 
They did her mangled limbs convey 
And bury in the king's highway. 

Heigh-ho, '&c 

Ko priest in white did there attend. 
His kind assistance for to lend, 
Her soul to Paradise to send. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 
No shroud her ghastly face did hide, 
No winding-sheet was round her ty'd ; 
Like dogs, she to her grave was hied. 

Heigh-ho, &c 
And then, your pity let it more, 
Ob pity ber who died for love ! 
A stake they through her body drove. 

Heigh-ho, &c 

It would have melted stones to see 
Such savageness and cruelty 
Us*d to a maid of twenty-three. 

Heigh-ho, 8tc. 

Ye maidens, an example take. 
For Sarah Holly's wretched sake 
O never virtue's wa}*s forsake. 

Heigb-ho, &c. 

Ye maidens all of Oxford tomn, 
O never yield your chaste renown 
To velvet cap or tufted gown. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 

And when that they do love pretend, 
No ear unto their fobles lend, 
But think on Sally's dismal end. 

Heigh-ho, Heigh bo! 



FIVB PASTOKAL 
ECLOGUES: 

tHB SCEUBS OP WHICH AIX SCrPMKD TO IIX 4M01f0 
THE SHBPHtXDS, OPPaXSSXO BY THE WAl tt OEt- 
MAKT. 

Impius bsec tam culta novalia Miles habebit ? 
Barbaras has segetes ? En quo discordia cives 
Perduxit miseroa ! en quds cooscvimus agros I 

VllCIL. 



raEFACX. 

It is generally thought, that as Paitorals are a 
kind of poetry, which has-been toucb'd upon 
by such a number of poets, that th^ arc easily 
compos'd, and that their tboughta and sentimeiits 
must be trite and vulgar. However ^»s opinkm 
may be true in reason, 1 hope the folk)wiog 
pieces will be exempt from ii's censure, as thef 
are formed on a plan entirely new, and as their 
design is essentially distinguish'd from any pro- 
ductions of their kind, either ancient or modem : 
unle&s it be that the first and ninth BuooUc of 
Virgil are in the same nature. How the ideat 
of &lds and woods, and a poetry whf«e very es- 
sence is a rural life, will agree with the polite 
taste of the town, and of gentlemen who arc 
more conversant in the fashionable ornaments of 
life, is a question : but I hope as they relate to 
that war, which is at present the roost general 
topic of conversatioo, this unpoliteoess will in 
some measure be excused. 

The learned reader will observe, that the author 
has endeavour'd to imitate the simplicity of the 
ancients in these pieces, as thinking it not only 
more particularly adapted to pastoral, but the 
true ornament of all kinds of poetry in general. 
As to the design of this work, I hope it will not be 
thought odd, or ill-cbosen. The opposrog m- 
terests of a peaceful and rural life, and the to- 
multuous scenes of war, together with the van* 
ous struggles and passions arising finom thence, 
seem by no means an improper field for the 
most elegant writer to exercise hia genius in. 
How far the author of tbe« pieces has wcc^^ 
in the performance of this, is humbly submitted 
to the oeusure and judgment of the public 



ECLOGUE I. 

LYCAS AND ALPHOK. 
ALPHON. 

Arise, my Lycts : in yoo» woody ^ds 
I From a rough rook in deep enclosure hid 

Of thickest oaks, a gushing fountain foils, 
' And pours it's airy stream with torrent pure : 

Which lal« returning from the field at eve 

I iband, invited li^ it's dashing aoond. 

As thro' the gkiom it struck my passing ear. 

Thither I mean to drive our languid flodcs ; 

Fit place to cool their thhxt in mid-day hour. 

Due west it rises from that blasted beech ; 

The way but short :— come, Lycas^ rouse ^y dog ; 

Let us be gone. 

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ECLOGUES. 



137 



ttCAt. 



Aks, my frieod, of ilock, 
Of spring, or tbq»herd's lore, to me is rain 
To tell : my fav'rite Iamb, the solace dear 
Of these irrey locks, my sweet and sole delight. 
Is snatcb'd by cruel fate ! an armed band 
On neighing steeds elate, in wide array 
Trampled the youngling, as the vale along 
At ere they pass'd, beneath their whelming march. 

ALPHOir. 

Such throng I heard, as in the neighb*ring wood 
I vaoder'd to reduce a straggling ewe 
Escap'd the fold : what time the griesly owl 
Her shrieks began, and at the wonted elm 
The cows awaiting stood Lucilla's hand. 
TVhen straight with sudden fear alarm*d I start. 
And list'nin^ to the distant-echoing steps 
Of onseen horaemen with attentive ear, 
1 stand aloof. But why this deep-felt grief ? 
Merits such loss these tears and black de^r } 



Alpboo, no more to Lycas now remains, 
Sfflce he my last and latest care is lost ! 
Thou know'sTmy little flock ; three tender ewes 
Were all my mean ambition wish'd or sought. 
Er'n now nine days, and nine revolving nights 
Are past, since these the Motdaw's raging flood 
Swept with thdr wattled cotes, as o'er its banks 
It rose redmMiant, swoln with beating ranis, 
And deep immersed beneath its whirfing wave. 
I wakM at early dawn, and to the field 
I i9su*d to pursue my wonted toil, 
When lo ! nor flochs, nor waUled cotes I saw ; 
But all that nnet my wond'ring eyes around. 
Was desolation sad. Here stateliest oaks 
Torn from their roots, with broken branches lay 
Iq hideous ruin : there the fields, that laughM 
With np'ning com, of all their charms despoiPd, 
With oozy fragments scatter'd waste and wild 
Were seen. I curst the wicked spint drear, 
That in the ruinM abbey's darkest cell, 
(That stands immur'd amid yon* lonesome pines) 
I bound with triple chains : his magic pow*r 
Ofttimes with howling storms, and thunder loud 
Deforms the night, and blackens nature's face. 
His tempests swellM the Moldaw's rising streams, 
Aodthns o'crwbdm'd my flock. — But this my heart 
Had ieam*d to bear, at length to comfort's voice 
It had obey'd, and all its woes forgot ; 
When ah ! too soon returning woes invade 
Mv brcart, just rising horn its former stroke. 
When this, the sole survivor, of my flock, 
Follows his lost companions ; while a wretch 
I here remain, deserted and forlorn • 
He too had dy'd beneath the whelming surge. 
Had not the shelter of my low-rooft cot 

I That fotal night preserv'd him ; where at eve 
1 bapMy ptacM him with providing care, 

I Lest the fell storm, which yet from southern clouds 
Threaten'd destruction, and to low*r began. 
Might violate his tender-blooming age. 

ALPUOK. 

With piteous eye, and sympathizing heart. 
Thy tears 1 view. — ^These scenes of war and blood, 
The calm repose of ev'ry field invade • 
Myself bad faU*n a victim to thehr rage. 



As in deep dead of night my care beneath 
I lay ditsolv'd in sleep, with warning voice 
Had not my dog alarmed with wood'ring ear. 
When straight approach*d the cave a savage throne 
With barVroui arms, and habit fierce and wild, 
Withstem demeanour and defymg look 
TerriflUc ; which thd Moon's pale-^hnm'ringray^ 
Presented to my sight, as in the boughs. 
Close shrouded, of a neighbVing pine I sat 
(Where sudden fear had driv'n me to evade 
Impending fiite, uncooscioas and amaz'd) 
Secare, but trembling, and in chilly damps 
My limbs bedew'd.— The roonsten as they past. 
With dhre confuskm all the cavern fill'd; 
Hnrrd to the ground mv scrip, and beechen cnpu 
Dispersed the shaggy skmi that form my bed. 
And o'er the trampled floor had scatter'd wide 
A hoard of choicest chesnuti, which I culi'd 
With nice-discemmg care, and had designed 
A present to my beauteous Rosalinde. 
Alas* with them her love had been obtain'd. 
And me to Myron she had then preferr'd ! 

LYCAS. 

Shepherd, on thee has Fortune kindly imil'd; 
'Tis mine to feel her grief-inflioting hand 1 
Ahis I each object that 1 view around 
Recalls my perish'd darling to my sight. 
And mocks me with his loss ! see there the spring 
Where oft he wont to slake his eager thiret ! 
And there the beech, beneath whose breezy shade 
He lov'd to lie, close covert from the Son I 
See yet the bark smooth-worn and bare remains. 
Where oft the youngling rubb'd his tender side I 
Ah ! what avail'd my care, and foresight vain ? 
That day he fell opprestt'd by whelming steeds. 
This hand had built a bow'r of thickest boughs 
Composed, and wove with intermingling leaves. 
Impervious to the Sun ; and strew'd the floor 
With choicest hay, that in the secret shade 
He might repose, nor feel the dog-star's beam 1 
But why this sad, repeated track of woe 
I still pursue ? Farewell, my Alphon dear. 
To distant fields, and pastures will I go, 
\Vhere impious war, and discord, nurse of blood 
Shall ne'er profane the silence of the groves. ' 



ECLOGUE IT. 

ACIS AND ALCVON. 



ACIS. 



While in the bosom of this deep recess, 
Tlie voice of war has lost its madding shouts. 
Let us improve the transient hour of peace, 
And calm our troubled mind^ with mutual songs • 
While this recess conspiring with the Muse * 

Invites to peaceful thoughts ; this cavern deep, 
And these tall pines that nodding from the rock 
Wave o'er its mouih their umbrage black, and cast 
A venerable gloom, with this clear fount 
That cleaves the riven stone and fills the cave 
With hollow-tinkling sounds. Repeat the song 
Which late, Alcyon, from thy mouth I heard. 
As to the spring we drove our thirsting flocks; 
It tells the charms of grateful evening mild : 
Begin, Alcyon : Acis in return 
Shall sing the praises of the dawning mom. 

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WARTON« POEMS. 



AftCTOH. ' 

Bdihad ihe billf wheu sinks the wdtem son, 
And falling dews breathe fragrance thro* the kW^ 
Refivthing evVy field with ^xxrioen tnild ; 
Then let me walk the twilight meadowi green, 
Or breezy up-landt, nearthjck-branching elms. 
While the still landscape sooths my soni to rest, 
And ev*ry care snbskles to calmest peace : 
The mists slbw^rismg from the rivers dank, 
The woods soahse stirring at the whisp'ring wind, 
The streaky ckmds, that tinge their darkenM topi 
With rasset hues, and fmnter gleams of Ugfat, 
Th« asfitude that all around becalms 
The peac^l 8lr,^Boasph« tn wrap my sonl 
In musings mild, and nought the solemn scene 
And the still silence breaks, bat distant sounds 
Of Ueatang Hocks, that to then- deslinM foM 
The shepbenl drives : mean-time theshrill-tmi'd bdl 
Of some lone e#e that wanders from the rest, ' 
Tindcles far-off, with soliUry soimd ; 
The lowing cows that wait the milker's hand. 
The cottage nMtiff *s hark, the jojroos shouts 
Of swains that meet to wrestle on the green. 
Are heard around. But ah ! since ruthless war 
Has ravaged in these fields, so tianquil once, 
Too oft' alas the dm of clashing arms 
Ai)d discord fdl disturbs the sojfter scene ! 
Thy sweet ap p roach delights the wearied ox, 
WhHe in loose traces from the fanrow'd field 
Heoomfli; thy dawn the iPear^ reaper loves. 
Who long had fiunted in the raid-day sun, 
Pleas'd ifith the cooler hour, along the vide 
WlBiHhif he home retnms to kiss his babes, 
With jeyfftl heart, his labour's sweet reward! 
Bat ah I «taat sudden fean amaze his sonl 
When, inar approaching, all before he sees 
His kiWly cottage and ttie village 'round 
Swept hrto mm by the hand of war, 
Bispeia'd his children, and his rnndi lovM wife. 
No more to gl«d his breast with home-feh joys ! 
I too, when in my wattled cotes are laid 
My supping -took, njoice to meet my dear. 
My feir lamretta, at the wonted oak ; 
Or haply as her milking-pail she bears 
Ketaming from the field, to ease her arm, 
(Sweet office !) and impart my aiding hand ! 
Thy charms (O beauteous Evening !) shall be sung. 
As long as these tall pmes shall wave then' heads. 
Or this clear fountain cleave the riven stone I 

ACIS. 

Sweet are the dews of eve ; her fragrance sweet ; 
Sweet are the pine-topt bills at sultry noon ; 
Sweet is the shelter of the friendly grot 
To sheep, and shepherd, at impending storms ; 
But ah f less sweet the fragrant dewi of eve ; 
Less sweet the pine-topt hills at sultry noon ; 
Less sweet the shelter of the friendly grot. 
Than when the rising Sun with rosy beam 
Peeps o'er the village-top, and o'er the fields, 
The woods, the hills, the streams, and level meads. 
Scatters bright splendours and diffbsire joy ! 
As to his flock the sliepherd issues forth. 
Printing new footsteps in the dewy vale, 
Eadi object of the joyous scene around 
Vernal delight inspires, and glads his heart 
Unknovnng of the cause, with new-felt glee ! 
The diant of early birds on every bush, 
Vlie steaming odours of the fresh-blown flow'ti— 



Cease, Acis, cease thy song : — from yonder hill. 
Whose lofty sides enclose this secret seat. 
Our flocks, that gra^e akuig its verd'rous brow. 
Tumultuous rush, as struck with sudden fright ; 
And ha^ methinks I hear the deathful sounds 
Of war approachhig, and its thunders roar ! 

ACIS. 

Kind Heav'n preserve my wife and children dear, 
Alas ! I fear the sound, tbai louder now 
Swells in the wind, and comes with fbller din, 
Is near my cottage; which, thou know'st, my friend. 
Stands at the spring, that issues from beneath 
That rising hill, £silt by the branching «lm I 

ALCVOK. 

See, see, my friend, what darksome spires arise 
Of wreathing smoke, and blacken all the sky !— • 
Nearer and nearer comes the thieat'im^ voice. 
And more distinguish'd strikes our trembling ear ! 
But lo ! the foes advance above the hill ; 
I see their glitt'ring arms begin to gleam ! 
Gome, let ns fly, and in the deepest nook. 
The inmost cavern of this winding |rot, 
Ctose shroud ourselves, lest hn the gen'ral stream 
Of t h ousa n ds thronging down, we &I1 opprest. 



ECLOGUE Hi. 

When sable midnight on the fields and woods 

Had spread her mantle dark, then wander'd forth 

The pensive Alcon, and the bosom deep 

Of a wild wood with solitary steps. 

There to lament his wretched fete, he sought. 

Him, late as o'er the vale at coming eve 

Joyful be walk'd with hit Lucilla dear, 

A soldier, stern-advancing on his steed, 

Robb'd of his love, and tore the beauteous maid 

With brutal hand from his contending arras. 

Weeping in vain, and shrieking for his aid. 

And frowning bore the precious prize away. 

The wood, whose shades the plaintive shepherd 

sought. 
Was dark and pathless, and by neighb'ring feet 
Long time untrod : for there in ancient dasrs. 
Two knights of bold emprise, aud high renown. 
Met in fierce combat, to dispute the prize 
Of beauty bright, whose valiant arm shou'd win 
A virgm fair, whose far-emblazoo'd charms 
With equal love had smote their rival breasts. 
The knight who fell beneath the victor's sword, 
Unhears*d and restless, from that fatal day 
Wanders the hated shades, a spectre pale ; 
And each revolving night, are heard to sound, 
far fVom the inmost bow'r of the deep wood. 
Loud shrieks, and hollow groans, and rattling chaina. 
When the dark secrets of the grove he gain'd. 
Beneath an ancient oak his weary limbs 4 

He laid adowo, and thus to plain began. 

<* This midnight deep to plaintive love accords ; 
This lonesome silence, and these hideous shades. 
That in this darksome, hour J daro to tread. 
And all the horrours of this fearful place. 
Will suit a wretch abandon'd to despair !— — 
But hah!— —what means this sudden fbar, 
that creeps 



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139 



In chilly twesli» o^ei'cll my tremUiikg Ihobt ?— — 

Wbat bottov-wbiip'Tiiig loaiidi are those 1 hear» 

From jaodet glade ? do not I hear his Toice ? 

Dqo aoc the knicht, that io these dwdes was slain, 

Ua me to come, and beckoo with his hand 2 

Do not 1 tee his Tisiooary swofd 

Wav'd io brighi circles thit>> the murky air ?-— ^ 

Does Boi he point his wonnds ? — be still my fears : 

1% %»m illusion all, and phantasie. 

These fcais my lore-distemper'd brain sogfests ; 

Abs, tbey will not bring me back my love ! — 

Wbo DOW, perhaps, amid the thronged camp 

Oa earth's cokl breast reclines her weary bead, 

A lielpksB lifgin, subject to the will 

Of esch rode ramber, and distant for 

From her dear Alcon, and her native fields— 

lU wfll the hardships of inclement skies 

SiBt vkb ber tender limbs ; the various toils 

Of pahilhl marches ; her unwonted ears, 

Kov bear the trumpet, and the sounds of war ! 

This task is bard indeed — but soon, alas ! 

At will her savage lord may cast her off, 

Aod leave ber to succeeding scenes of woe } 

I see my dear Lucilla, once my own, 

Nsked and hungry, tread the pensive steps 

Of desolation, doomM to wan^r o*er, 

KdplflBt and vagabon4, the friet^less Earth ! 

I hetr ber sigh fur Alcon and her home ; 

Add Msk fior bread at some proud palace gate 

With unavailing voice ! TTiis toilsome scene, 

Alas, how dlflPrent from the smoother paths 

Of raral life, my dear was wont to tread ! 

Furth to the field to bear the milking -pail 

Was all ber wont ; to tread the tedded grass, 

To tend her fiither*s flock : beneath the oak 

To aatdfc her dinner sweet, and on the green 

With the companions of her age to sport ! 

h vain 1 now expect the coming on 

Of dew-bath'd eve, to meet my wonted love ; 

Ko more I hear the wood-girt vallies ring 

With her biytbe voice, that oft has blest mine ear, 

As a the di^ant shade I sate unseen ; 

Xo nKK« I meet her at the wonted spring. 

Where each revolving noon she daily went 

To fin ber pitcher with the crystal flood ! — 

if in ber native fields the band of death 

Had snalch'd ber from my arms, I cou*d have borne 

The £ital shock with ieftt- repining heart ; 

For then I could have had one parting kiss ; ^ 

I eoo'd have strewn ber hearse with fairest flowers, 

Aai paid the last sad ofBce to my dear ! — 

Setnm, my sweet Lucilla, to my arms ; 

At thy return, all nature will rejoice. 

Together will we walk the verdant vales. 

And mii^^ sweet discourse with kisses sweet 

C&mtt, I will dimb for thee the knotted oak. 

To rob (he stock-dove of his feathery young ; 

FU show theCNrhere the soflest cowslips spring. 

And chiit^ring nuts their laden branches bend ; 

Tsgether will we taste the dews of mom; 

Together seek the grotts at sultry noon ; 

Tofcttaer from the field at eve return — 

What have I said ? what Minted scenes of bins 

My vaio tmaginatioo has displayed ! 

Alas» she's gone, ah, never to return ! 

FsRmll my past'ral pipe, and my dear flock; 

hrevell my nuthful dog ; my once-lov'd haunts 

Fnrwen, or cave, or fountain, or fresh shade, 

and thou, my low-rooft cot^ farewell !— 



Here will I lie, and fellest wolvai, thitt roilli 
This savage foinest, shall devour my thtriMS 
Unwept, nnburied, in a place nnkixmii !** 



ECLOGUE IF. 



MTcoK AMO ratLANiraii. 



Welcome, PhSlanihes, to thy native fields ; 
Thrice three revolving'moons are gone and pasl^ 
Since first yon parted from your father's cot. 
To drive to pastures fkr remote your fiodu- 
Since that, alas, how oft has savage war 
Disturbed our dwellings, and defiic*d our fields ! 

raiLAMTHBS. 

Mycoo, Acfa object that I view aronhd. 

Speaks ruhi and destruction. See, my friend. 

The ancient wood, whose venerable shades 

So oft have sheltered us firom noon-day suns ; 

So oft have echo'd to the lowing herds 

That fed wide-wandering in the neighboring vale% 

The soldier's ax has levelled with the ground. 

And to the Sun expos'd its darksome bow'rs : 

The distant villages, and blue-topt hills, [eyes. 

The far-stretch'd meads appear, and meet mine 

That erst were intercepted by the grove. 



How is the wonted &ce of all things changed ! 
Those trees, by whose aspiring tops we knew 
The Sun's ascent at noon, unerring mark» 
No more are seen to tell the comipg hour. 
How naked does the winding rill appear. 
Whose haulu its pendant umbrsge deep imbrown'd. 
And far invested with its arboroos roof. 
As by its sides it roIPd its secret streams ; 
How oft, alas ! those shadowy banks aloi^ 
(Ckise solitude !) my Rosalind and 1 
Have walked in converse sweet, and link*d in love I 
But tell me, dear Philanthes, are the fieldi. 
Which jate you left, like ours by war oj^nrest. 
Alike in tumult and confusion wvapt ? 

pfiiLAirntes. 
Myoofi, ril tell thee wonders past belief. 
It hap*d one mom, when first the dawning Sun 
Began to chear the light-enliven*d Karth, 
Caught with so bright a scene, I sought the fields 
Before my wonted hour, and roving wide 
Among the vales, the villages and woods. 
Where'er my fancy led, or pleasures calPd, 
I chanc'd upon a neighboring hill to stray, 
To view the glitt'ring prospect firom its top 
Of the broad Rhine, that rolPd his waves beneath, 
Aorid the tevM of exteadad mMds ; 
When 1 Io ! ere yet I gaiiiMits lofty brow. 
The sound of dadiing Ihoods, and dashmg arms 
And neighing stoeds, ooolhshre stmck mbe ear. 
Stndioi* to know what tnmull was at band. 
With step adventrMs I advaacM, and gahi'd 

> It may be supposed that in these lines the 
shraherd is giving an acconnt of Prince Charles's 
putting the Rhint. 



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WARTOire POEMS. 



With tim'ioiit care ttid caotkmi ken its top. 
Sodden a bunt of tNrightness smote my tigbt. 
From armt, and all th' imblazonry of war 
Keflected hx, while iteeds, and men, and arms 
SeemM floating wide, and stretch'd in vast amy 
Cer the broad bosom of the big-swoln flood* 
That dashing roli'd its beamy wares between. 
The banks promiscuous swarmed with thronging 

tnwps, 
These on the flood embarking, those ^ppear'd 
Crowding the adverse shore, sJready past. 
All was confusion, all tomuHuoAs din. 
I trembled as I look'd, tbo* far above. 
And in one blaze their arms were blended bright 
With the broad stream, while all the glist'ring scene 
The mom iUum'd, and in one splendiour clad. 
Struck at the sight, I left with headlong haste 
The steep brow'd hill, and o*er th' extended vales. 
The wood-girt lawns I ran, nor slacked my pace. 
Till at my flock tbiok-panting I arrived. 
And drove fur off, beneath a deep-arch*d cave. 
Bat come, my friend, inform me in return, 
Smoe this jny absence what has here fell out 

MTCOir. 

Bost thou remember at the river's side 
That solitary convent, all behind 
Hid by the covert of a mantling wood ?— 
One night, when all was wrapt in darkness deep. 
An armed troop on rage and rapine bent, 
Pour'd o'er the fields and ravag*d all they met ; 
Kor did that sacred pile escape their arms. 
Whose walls the murderous band to ruin swept. 
And flllM its caverns deep with armed throngs 
Greedy of spoil, aud snatched their treasures old 
From their dark seats : the shrieking sisters fled 
Dispersed and naked thro' the fields and woods, 
While sable night oonceaPd their wand'ring'kteps. 
Fart in my mow-grown cottage shelter sought. 
Which haply scap'd their rage, in secret glade 
Immersed deep. — I rose at eaHy mom, 
With fearful heart to view the rain*d dome. 
Where all was desolation, all appear*d 
The seat of horrour, and devouring war. 
The deep recesses, and the gloomy nooks. 
The vaulted isles, and shrines of imag'd saint^ 
The cavems worn by holy knees appeared. 
And to the Sun were op*d. — In mushig thought 
I said, as on the pile I bent my brow — 
** This seat to ftiture ages will appear. 
Like that which sUnds ftist by the piny rock; 
These silent walls with ivy shall be hung. 
And distant times shall view the sacred pile. 
Unknowing how it fell, with pious awe ! 
The pilgrim here shall visit, and the swain. 
Returning from the field at twilight grey. 
Shall shun to pass this way, subdued by fear, 
And slant his course across the adverse vale !" 

raiLAMTHBS. 

Mycoo, thou see'st that cow, which stands in cool 
Amid yon rushy lake, beneath the shade 
Of willow green, and ruminates at ease 
The watry hertwge that around her floats. 
That way my bustsess leads. I go to greet 
My £ither» and my wonted cottage dear. 

MTOOlff. 

Come, let us go : my path is that way too. 
Came, my Philanthe?, and may piteous He«Y*n 



Indulge, more happy days, and calm our griefs ! 
Alas ! l' thought some trouble was at band. 
And long before presag'd the cominc storm, 
Ev'n when the ligbt'ning one disastrous night 
Blasted the hoary oak, whose ample boughs 
Imbow'r my cottage ; and as on the grass 
At noon 1 slept, a serpents sudden hiss 
Broke my sweet rest ! — But come, let us be gone. 
The Sun begins to welk in mddy %rest. 



ECLOGUE r. 

CORItl AND CALISTAK. 



cot IK. 

Which way, Calistan, whither dost thou lead 
That lamb, whom yet his mother scarce has wean'd ? 

CALISTAlf. 

His mother, Corin, as she wandering fed. 
With this her tender youngling by her side. 
Fell by a shot which from the battle caipe. 
That in the neighb'ring fields so lately rag*d. 

COR IK. 

Alas ! what woes that fatal day involv'd 
Our suff*ring village, and the fields around I 
But come, Calistan, on thb rising bank. 
Come, let us sit, and on the danger past^ 
Converse secure, and number all our grieb. 
See how the flaunting woodbine shades the bank. 
And weaves a mantling canopy above ! 



Corin, that day I chanc'd at earlier hour 
To rise, and drove far-ofl' my flock unpcnt^ 
To wash them in a spring that late I mark'd. 
There the first motions of the deathfiil day 
I heard, as listening to the trickling wave 
I stood attentive : when like rising storms. 
Hoarse, hollow murmurs from alar I heard. 
And undisdnguish'd sounds of distant din. 
Alarm'd I HmoA, unknowing whence it came ; 
And from the fount my flock unwash'd I drove 
Suspecting danger : when as nearer yet, 
1 came advancing, all was tumult loud. 
All was tempestuous din on ev*ry skle. 
And all around the roar of war was up. 
From rock to rock retost, from wood to ipood. 
Not half so loud the tumbling cataract 
Is heard to roar, that from the pine-clad cliflT 
Precipitate^ its waves; whose distant sounda 
I oft have listen'd, as at twilight grey 
I pent my flocks within their wattled cotes. 



For three revolving days, nor voice of bird 
Melodious chanting, or the bleat of sheep. 
Or lowing oxen, near the fistal place 
Were ^loird to sound ; but all was silence sad ! 
The ancient grove of elms deserted stood. 
Where kmg bad dwelt an aged race of rooks. 
That with then- nests had crowded every branch. 
We oft' have heard them at the dusk of eve 
In troops returning to their well-known home. 
In mingled clamours sounding from on high ! 



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ECLOGUES. 



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CAtnrTAM. 

Cbrin, thoQ knov'st tlie fir-inyeited cave, 
Wbrre Ule we sfaelter*d from a gathViog storm. 
Oar flocks together drrr*ii: beoeath tU shade 
I bad appointed at sweet even-tide 
To meet my Delia homeward as she pass'd. 
Bearing her milking.paiL Alas ! the thoughts 
Of that sweet congress, the precediug night 
Solte9*d my dreams, and all my senses lulPd, 
And with more joyful heart at mom I rose. 
But ah ! that tnmuK cropt my blooming hopes, 
Ind ia oon fa si o n wrapt my lore and me. 

coaiN. 
Thstt day, Bor in the (old my flock I pent. 
Or walk'd at eve the vales, or on the tarf 
Beneath the wonted oak my dinner took. 
Or slept at noon amid my languid sheep, 
Rcpos^ at ease on the green mfeadow*8 bed. 
When sable night came on, for not ev^n yet 
The tumult had subsided into peace, 
Ev*a then low sounds, and interrupted bursts 
Of war we beard, and cries of djriog men. 
Ami a oonfbs'd hum of the ceasing storm* 
in night dose-shrouded in a forest thick, 
Wak^ul I sate, my flock around me laid ; 
And of neglected boughs 1 kindled up 
A scanty flame, whose darkly-gleaming blaze 
AoKrag th' eolighten'd trees fonn'd hideous shapes, 
And sp e ui e s pale, to my distempered mind. 
Bow oft I look'd behind with cautious iear. 
And trembled at each motion of the wind !— • 
Bat where did you, Galistan, shelter seek ? 
What daifc retreat ooooeal'd your waad'ring steps ? 

CAUSTAH. 

Csrin, thoo know'st the fur-clad hennit's cell 
Deep-arch*d beneath a rock among the wilds: 
TUlher 1 bent my flight, a welcome guest, ' 
Aad not unknown ; for when my flock I fed 
Of late beoeath the neighb'ring pastures green, 
I oft was woot, invited at his oJl, 
Itnooo beneath his cavern to retire 
fnm the tai*k baat, white all the paflfa^ hours 



The good old-man improved with converse high. 
And in my breant enkindled virtue's love ; 
Nor seldom would his hospitable hand 
Aflbrd a short repast of berries cool. 
Which o'er the wilds (his scanty food) he pluck*d i 
Here was my refuge. — All the live-long night 
Pensive by one, pale, lonesome lamp we sate. 
And listeo*d to the bleak winds whistling loud. 
And the shrill crash of forests from without 
Soon as the morning dawo'd, the craggy height 
Of the steep rock 1 climb'd, on whose wild top 
His rustic temple stood, and moss-grown cross 
(The sacred object of his piOos pray'n) 
FormM of a tall fir's thunder-blasted trunk : 
Where all beneath th' expansive plains I saw 
With white pavilions hid, in deep array. 
There too my little fold, which late 1 left 
Standing at eve, amkl the warlike scene 
With tearful eyes afirighted, I beheld. 
Alas, how changed the scece ! when there I pitched 
Those hurdled cotes, the night was calm and mild. 
And all was peaceful. I remember well. 
While there within that fold my flock I pent. 
How blythe I heard my beauteous Delia sing I 
Her distant-echoing voice how sweetly rung. 
And all my ravished senses wrapt in bliss I 



Hast thou not seen the fotal plain of death 
Where rag'd the conflict ? there, they say, at eve 
Grim ghosts are seen of men that there were slain. 
Pointing their wounds and shrieking to their mates, 
Still doom'd to haunt the fields on which they fell. 



Corio, no more. ' Th'ts lamb demands my speed. 
See how the youngling hangs his sickly head. 
Tender, and fainting for his wonted food ! 
I haste to place hind in my sbelt'ring cott. 
Fed fixMn my hand, and cherish'd by my care.— t- 
And see, my friend, far oflT in darkened west 
A clopd comes on, and threatens sudden rains. 
Corin, fef«weU| the ttonn begins to low'i; 



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THE 



POEMS 



OP 



DR. JOSEPH WAR TON. 



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THE 

LIFE OF DR. JOSEPH WARTON, 

BY MR. CHALMERS. 



Dr. JOSEPH WARTON was born at the bouse of his maternal grandfather, the 
icf. Joseph Rkbardson, rector of Dunsford, in the year 17?2« Ei^cept for a very 
iborttime that he was at New College school, he was educated by his father until he 
trrifed at his fourteenth year. He was then admitted on the foundation of Win- 
chester Colkge, under the care of the present venerable Dr. Sandby, at that time the 
bead of the school, and now chancellor of Norwich. 

He had not been loug at this excellent seminary before he exhibited considerable 
tatellectnal powers, and a laudable ambition to outstrip the common process of educa- 
tkm. CoUms, the poet, was one of his schoolfellows, and in conjunction with him and 
smother boy, young Warton sent three poetical pieces to the Gentleman's Magazine, of. 
foch merit as to be highly praised in that miscellany, but not, as his biographer supposes, 
by Dr. Johnson. A letter also to his sister, which Mr.Wooll has printed, exhibits very 
extiaordinary proofs of fancy and observation in one so young. 

In September 174(), being superannuated accordhig to the laws of the school, he was 
removed from Winchester, and havug no opportunity of a vacancy at New College, 
he went to Oriel. Here he applied to his studies, not only with diligence, but with 
that true taste for what is valuable, which rendered the finer discriminations of criti- 
dam habitual to his mind* During his leisure hours he completed several of his 
poems, aoiong whidi his biographer enumerates the Enthusiast, or the Lover of 
Nature, the Dying Indian, and a prose satire entitled Ranelagh House. He appears 
likewise to have sketched an allegorical work of a more elaborate kind, which he did not 
fiad tioM or incUnation to complete. On taking his bachelor's degree in 174-4-, he was 
ordained to his fathers curacy at Basingstoke, and officiated in that church till Februaiy 
1746: he next removed to the duty of Chelsea, whence, in order to complete his recovery 
from the small pox, he went to Chobham. 

AlH>ut this time he had became a correspondent in Dodsley's Museum, to which he 
contributed, as appears by his copy of that work now before me, Superstilioh, an ode, 
dated Chelsea, April 1746, and Stanzas written on taking the air after a long illness. 
In the preceding year, as noticed in his brother's life, he published by subscription, a 

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116 ' LIFE OF DR. WARTON. 

volume of his father's poems, partly to do honour to his niemoryt but p^mcqpdly with 
the hiudable purpose of payuig what debts he left behind him, and of raisiiig a littlt 
Aind for himself and family. Whether this scheme answered his fiiU expectatioiis it 
uncertam, but he appears to have been encouraged by some of his fathei's opulent 
friendsi and probably was no loser. The correspondence Mr. Wooll has puUisbed, 
shows with what prudence the two brothers husbanded their scanty provision, and 
with what affection they endeavoured to support and cheer each other while at school 
and college. 

Owing to some di^greement witb the iKirishioners of Chelsea, which had taken place 
.before he left that curacy, he accepted the duty of Chawton and Droxfbrd, but after a 
few months returned to Basingstoke. In 1 747-S he was presented by the duke of Bol- 
ton to the rectory of Winslade, and as this, although a living of small produce, wa( 
probably considered by him as the earnest of more valuable preferment, he iamMdiately 
married Miss Daman, of that neigfabooriiood, to whom, his biographer informs ns, be 
had been some time enthusiastically attached. In 1747» according to Mr. Wooll'sacconnt^ 
he had published a volume of odes, in conjunction with Collins, but on cooaoltii^ 
the literary registers of the time, it appears that each puUishedl a volume of poems 
in 1746, and in the same montlu It cannot now be ascertaiuedVhat degree of fiune 
ac<2rued to our author from ibis volume, but in the preface we find him avowing tfaotc 
sentiments on the nature of genuine poetry which he expanded more at large after- 
wards, and which were the foundatipn of what has since been termed ** the school of 
the Wartons.'* 

*' The public,'' he says» " has been so much accustomed of late to dMactie poetry 
..alone, and essays on moral subjects, that any work» where the imagmation is modi 
indulged, will perhaps not be relished or regarded. The author therefore of these 
pieces is m some pain, lest certain austere ciitica should think them too fancifid or 
descriptive. But as he is convinced thai the fasbkm of moraliimg hi verse has been 
carried too fiir,and as he looks upon invention and imagmation tobethechief facoltiet 
of a poet, so he will be happy if the fi^owing Odes may be looked upon as an 
attempt to bring back poetry into its right channel''— In 1749 he publisbed his ode to 
Mr. West. 

In 1751, Ills patron the duke of Bolton invited him to be his companion in m tonr 
to the south of France K For this, Mr. Wool! informs us, he had two motives, ^ the 
society of a man of learning and taste, and the acc»mmodaii(m of a protestant clergyman, 
who, immediately , on the death of his dutchess, then in a confirmed dropsy, oonld 
marry him to the lady with whom he lived, and who was univenMUy known and distin- 
guished by the name of Polly Peachum." 

Whichever of these motives predominated in the duke's mind, it is much to t>e re- 
gretted that our author $0 far forgo^ what was due to his character and profession as to 
accept the offer. But if any circumstance besides the consciooaness of doing wrong, 

1 '^ On tbis oocarion bis brother wrote tbat beautiftil Ode sent to a Frieiid oa leafing a fiivoerite 
Village in Hampshire ; which alone, in my opinion, would pUce him in the higher order of poets : and 
which is one of the most exquisite (ftescriptire pieces in the whole body of English poetry. Every line 
painu, with the nicest and moft discriminative toucbeS| the scenery about Wyoslade and Hackwood.' 
Brydges' CensuEa Utcraria, vol. 5. 178. C. 



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LIFE OF DR. WARTON. U? 

I embitler the remembrance of this solitary blemish in his public h'fe, it was, that^ 
•iter ill, the only hopes which could justify his compliance were very ungraciously disr 
appoiDted. For some reason or other, be wns obliged to leave his patron, and come to 
Eoglaiid before the dutchess died, and when that event took place, and he solicited 
penniiiion to retora to the duke, he had the mortification to learn that the ceremony 
hid been performed by Mr. Devisme, chaplain to the embassy at Turin. 

Soon after bis return to England, be published hb edition of Virgil in English and 
Latin, the MaM translated by Pitt, and the Eclogues and Gcorgics by himself, who 
•bo eontribated the notes on the whole. Into this publication, he introduced Warbur- 
tto*s Dissertation on the sixth .£ueid : a commentary on the character of lapb by 
Atterboiy, and on the shield of £neas by Whitehead, the laureat, ori^nally published 
m Dodsley's Museum; and three Essays on Pastoral, Didactic and Epic Poetry written 
by himself. Much of this valuable work, begun in 1748-9, was printed when he was 
•broad, and the whole completed in 17 53. It is mmecessary to add that his share in 
the tmnlation, his notes, and especially his Essays, raised him to a very high reputa- 
tioo among the scholars and critics of hb age. The second edition, which appeared 
• few years after, was much improved. In addition to the other honours which 
molted from this display of classical taste, the university of Oxford conferred upon 
lim the degree of master of arts, by diploma, dated June 23, ^759. Such is Mr. 
Woolfs account, but it b evident from the date that hb Essay likewise preceded this 
jostmaik of esteem. 

Daring tlie year 1753, he ^na mvited to assist in the Adventurer, which was begun 
by Hawkesworth, in 1752. The invitation came from hb friend Dr. Johnson, who 
inforaied him that the literary partners wished to assign to him the province of criti- 



Hb contributions to the Adventurer amount to twenty-four papers. Of these a few 
•le of the humourous cast, but the greater part consist of elegant criticbm, not that 
of coM sagacity, Imt warm from the heart, and powerfully addressed to the finer 
feelings as well as to the judgment. His critical papers on Lear have never been 
exceeded for jnst taste and discrimination. His disposition lay in selecting, and illus^ 
tnfing those beauties of anci^t and modem poetry, which, like the beauties of 
mtare, strike and please many who are yet incapable of describing or analysing them. 
No. 101, on the blembhes in the Paradise Lost, b an example of the delicacy and 
BD|)ait]afity with which writings of establbhed fame ought to be exammed. Hb ol>« 
serratkxis on the Odyssey, in Nos. 75, 80, and 83, are original and judicious, but 
k may he doubted whetlier they have detached many scholars from the accustomed 
preference given to the Iliad. If any objection may be made to Dr. Warton's critical 
papers, it b that hb Greek occurs too frequently in a work intended for domestic 
bstmction. Hb style b always pure and perspicuous, but sometimes it may be db- 
covered, without any other information, that " he kept company with Dr. Johnson." 
The first part of No. 139, if found detached, might have been attributed to that writer. 
It has an hb manner^ not merely *' the coutorsions of the sybir but somewhat of the 
" iospiiation V 

* I liope X shall be excused for transcribing this character of Dr. Warton's Adventurers, written 
tbea tbe mbject was freth in memory, for the pritisb fissayist^ vol. xxlii. pref. p. xxxix^ C. 

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>*a UFE OF DR. WARTOW. 

About this time he appears to have mediMed a history of the icfiSfal ofliteniwew 
Hb first iateulion was to publish Sdect EpIsUes of Politiao, Erasmus, Orothis and 
others, with notes, but after some correspondence with his brother, wbo^wa» to assist 
Hi the undertaking, it was laid aside, a circmnstance much to be lao^ented,^ as few 
nen were more extensirely acquainted with liteiary history, or could have detailed it 
in a more pleasing form. At a subsequent period he again sketched a plan of nearly 
the same kind, which was likewise abandoned Collins, some time before this, had 
published proposals for a History of fclie Revival of Learning, with a Life of Leo the 
Tenth, but probably no part was executed, or could mdeed be reasonably expected 
from one of his unhappy state of mind. 

. In 1754, our author was instituted to the living of Tunworth, on the preaentBtam 
of the Jervoise family^ ; and m 1755, on the resignation of the rev. Samuel Speed, 
he was elected second master of Winchester-school, with the management and ad- 
vantages of a boarding house. In the following year, sir George Lytlelton, then 
advanced to the peerage, commenced thepatronage of his nobility by bestowing a scarf 
on Mr. Wartott. He had for some time enjoyed the familiar acquamtance of sir 
George, and assisted him m the revisal of his history of Hemy IL 

Amklfll al^ these honours and employments, he now found leisure lo complete the 
itift volume of his celebrated Essay on the Writings and Genius of Pope,, which be 
dedicated to Dr. Young, but did not subscribe hia name. Dodiley likevrise, althoogh 
the real publisher, thought proper to employ hb deputy Mrs. Cooper on this occasion. 
The following passage from one of Dodsley's letters published by Mr. Wool!, will pro- 
bably throw some light on his motive. " Your Essay is- puUbbed, the price 5$: bound. 
I gave Mrs. Cooper directions about advertismg, and have sent it to her this afternoon, 
to desire she will look after its being inserted in the evening papers. I have a pleasure 
hi telling you that it b Hked m general, and paxticnkurly by such as you woukl wish 
should like it. But you have surely not kept your secret : Johnson mentioned it ta 
Mr. Hitcbaayour8.«»Dr. Bbch meatk>ned it to Garrick as yours.— And Dr. Akenside 
mentioned it as yours to me. — ^And many whom I cannot now think on have asked 
for it as yours or your brothers. I have sold many of them in my own shop, and 
have dbpersed and pushed it as- much as I can: and have said more than I could ham 
said xfmif name had been to jtr The ob^jections made to thb admirable piece of 
cnticbra will be considered hereafter. In the mean time, they were powerftil enough 
to damp the ardour of the essayist, who left hb work m an imperfect state for the 
long space of twenty-six years. 

In May \l66^ he was advanced to the bead mastership of Wmchester sdiool, a 
situation for which he waa eminently qualified, and in which hb shming abilitiies, ur-^ 
banity of manners, and eminent success ki produdag scholars of distingnished taknta^ 
will be long and affectionately remembered. In consequence of thb promotkm bo 
once more visited Oxford, and proceeded to the degree of 1>achelor and doctor in 
divinity. In 177^1 he lost the wife of hb earl^ affection, by whom he had six chil* 
dren. The stroke was severe, but the necessity 4>f providmg a substitute for hb 
children, and an intelligent and tender companion for himself, induced bun m the 

* Aboat this time hs sent soms of bb juTcnile pieces to Dodtley's Collectloo of Poems. C«- 

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I*FE OF DR. WARTON, .449 

tofcwiag ytar -lo mmry Miss Nicholas, daughter oC Robert Nicholas, esq. a de- 
fteodant of Dr. Nicholas, formerly wardeu of Wipchester. 

Tbeteoour of his life was now even. During such times as he could spai« from the 
school^ and especiidly on the ret^urn of the Christmas vacation, he visited liis friends 
io London, among whom were the whole of that class who composed Dr. Johnsou s 
litervj dub, with some persons of rank by whom he was highly respected, but who 
appear to have remembered tbeir old waster in every thing but promotion. In 178^/ 
he was indebted to his friend and correspondent Dr. Lowth, bisliop of London, for 
a prcbeod of St. PauFsy and the living of Thorley In Hertfordshire, which, aAer some 
anrngements, he exchanged fur Wickham. This year abo he pubUshed his second 
aadooududiag volame of the £6say on Pope, and a uew edition, with some alterations, 
of the first 

In 178^ through the ioteisest of lord Shannon, he obtained a prebend in Wuichester 
calhedral, and through that of lord Malmesbury, tlie rectory of Easton, which, within 
the year, he was permitted to exchange for Upham. The amount of these preferments 
was cQQsideiabk, but surely not lieyond liis merit, and it must be observed, they came late 
whn his fiuaity co^ld no longer expect the advantages of early mcome and economy. 
He was sixty yean of age before he had any benefice, except the small livings of 
Wyndtde and Tunworth, and nearly seventy before he enjpyed the remainder. The 
distributioD of ecclesiastic preferments would l>e a subject too delicate for 
D, if they were uniformly the rewards of ecclesiastical services, but as, among 
other leasou^ they ^re iiestowed on account of literary atUunments, we may be allowed 
io wander thai Dc Warton was not remunerated in an early period of life, when he 
itM ahaostat tbe bead of EogUsh scholars, and when his talents, in their full vigour, 
voold have dignified the highest stations. \ 

h the year 1793, he came to a resoliition to resign the mastership of Winchester. 
Beans now bciginning to feel that his time of life required more ease and relaxation 
^km the duties of the school permitted, and hb resoli^tion was probably strengthened 
hjsome unpleasant proceedings at that period among the scholars. Accordmgly he 
gait in his resignation on the twenty-third of July, and retired to his rectory at 
Vidfaam. A vote of thanks followed from the wardens, &c. of tlie school, for the 
taooongemeiit be had given to genius and industry, the attention he had paid to 
the iotrodnction of a correct taste in composition and chissical learning, and the many 
ttd larious services which he had conferred on the Wiccamical societies through tlie 
long course of y^ars in which he filled the places of second and head master. These 
^CR not words of course, but truly felt by the addressers, althoi^h thej form a very 
iaarfcquate character of him as luaster. 

During his retirement at Wickham, he , was induced by a liberal offer from the 
koobdlers of London^ and more probably, by his love for the task, to superintend a 
aev editioo of Pope's Works, which he completed iu 1797* ia nine volumes octavo. 
Ifat thbwas the most complete and best illustrated edition of Pope was generally allowed, 
hat it haKi to contend with objectious, some of which were not urged with the respect 
<lae to the veteran critic who had done so much to reform and refine the taste of his 
>^ It was proper to object that he had intrdduced one or two pieces which ought 
aever to have been published, but it was not so proper or necessary to otyect that he , 

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UO LIFE OF DR- WARtON. 

had given iis his Essay cut down into notes. Besides tiuit this was unavoidable, they 
who made the objection had not I>een very carefnl to compare the new with the old 
matter ; they would have found upon a fiiir examination that his original iUnstrations 
were very numerous, and tlmt no discovery respecting Pope's character or ^vritbgs 
made since the edition of Warburton, was left untouched. 

It has already been mentioned that he had once an mtention of compiliag a Histoiy 
of the Revival of Learning, and that he had abandoned it. About the year 1784 % 
however, he issued proposals for a work which would probably have included much 
of his original purpose. This was to have been comprised in two quarto volumes^ 
and to contain the History of Grecian, Roman, Italian, and French Poetry in feur 
parts. I. From Homer to Nonnus: 11. From Ennius to Boetius: III. From Dante to 
Metastasio : IV. From W. de Lorris to Voltaire. This he announced as ** preparing for 
the press." Probably his brother^s death, and his desire to complete hb Histoiy of 
Englbh Poetry, diverted him from his own design : but it dt>e8 not appear that bp 
made any progress in either. 

After the publication of Pope, he entered on an edition of Dryden, and about the 
year 1799, bad completed two volumes with notes, which are now in the pomession 
of his son, the rev. John Wvirton, who has undertaken to give them to^ world. 
At thb time the venerable author was attacked by an incurable disorder in hb kidneys, 
which terminated his useful and honourable life on Feb. 93, 1800, in hb seventy-eighth 
year ^ He left a widow, who died in 1 8()S, a son and three daughters, the yoongest 
by his second wife. He wa^ interred in the same grave with hb first wife, m the 
n^th aisle of Winchester cathedral : and the Wicoambts evinced their respect for 
hb memory by an elegant monument by Flaxman, placed against the pillar iieit to 
the entrance of the choir on the south-side of the centre aisle. 

In 1806, the rev. John Wooll, master of the school of Midhnrst''in Sussex, pub. 
lished Biographical Memoirs of Dr. Warton, with a Selection from hb Poetry and a 
Literary Correspondence. From all these, the present sketch has beta compiled, wUk 
some additional particulars gleaned from the literary joumalt of the times^ and other 
sources of information. 

The personal character of Dr. Warton continues to l>e the theme of piaiae with 
all who knew him. Without affectation of superior philosophy, he possessed aa UHle- 
pendent spirit, and amidst what would have l>een to others very bitter disappomt- 
men ts, lie was never known to express the language of discontent or envy. As a hus- 
band and parent he dbplayed the tenderest feelings mixed with that prudence which 
implies sense as well as affection. Hb mannen partook of what has been termed the 
old court: hb address was polite and even elegant, but occasionally it had somewhat 
of measure and stateliness. Having left the university after a short reskknce, he 
mixed eariy with the world, sought and enjoyed the society of the ftur sex, and tem- 
pered hb studious habits ^vith the tender and polite attentions necessary in promiscoous 

4Myoopyof his Proposalg lias no date, bat u Mr. Maty published them io hb ReTteir for 1784^ 
I presume that was the time of their being issued. C, 

^ <* His cheerfulness and resiginatioa in affliction were inrincible ; even under the extreme of bodily 
weakness, his strong mind was unbroken, and his limbs became paralyzed in the very act of dictating 
an epistle of friendly criticism. So quiet, so composed was hit end, that he might more tnity be smd 
to cease to live than to have uodeigooe the pangs of death." WooU's Memoirs, j^ i02, 103. C. 

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UFE OF DR. WARTON. 151 

Mtfoomse. In thb respect there was a visible difference between him and his 
ktAber» whose manners were ^ore careless and unpolished. In the more solid qualities 
of the heart, m true' benevolence, kmdness, hospitality, they approached very closely. 
Yet though thehr bclinations and pursuits were congenial, and each assisted the other 
in his undertakhigs, it may be questioned, whether at any time they could have ex- 
changed occupations: with equal stores of literature, with equ^L^efinement of taste, it 
may be questioned whether the author of the Essay on Pope could have pursued the 
' oif English poetry, or whether the historian of poetry could have written the 
I we find in the Adventurer* 

In conversation. Dr. Warton's talents appeared to great advantage. lie was mirth* 
fid, argumentative, or communicative of observation and anecdote, as he found his 
conpany lean to the one or to the other. His memory was more richly stored with lite- 
laiy history than perhaps any man of his time, and his range was very extensive. 
He knew Frtoch and Italian literature most intimately ; and when conversing on 
noie oommoo topics, his extempore sallies and opinions bore evidence of the same deli- 
cate tasle and candour which appear in his writings. 

His biographer has considered his literary character under the three heads of a poet, 
a critic, and an instructor, but it ir«s a critic principally that he will be known to pos- 
Icnty, and as one who, in the language of Johnson, has taught *' how the brow of 
cdliam maiy be smoothed, and how she may be enabled, with all her severity, to attract 
and to delighf A book, indeed, of more delightful variety tlian his Essay on Pope, 
has 90t yet af^iearedy nor one m which there b a more happy mixture of judgment and 
Msibilitj. It did not, however, flatter the current opinions on the rank of Pope* 
aaoQg poets» and the anther desisted from pursumg his subject for many years. Dr. 
Jelnsofi said that this was owing << to his not having been able to persuade the world 
lo be of bb opinion as to Pope." This was probably the truth, but not the whole truth. 
Motives of a delicate nature are sopposed to have had some share in inducing him to 
dsBSt for a time* Warburton was yet alive, the executor of Pope and the giuu^ian of his 
tumt^ and Warburton was no less the active and zealous friend, and correspondent of 
Thomas Warton: nor was it any secret that Warburton furnished Ruffhead with the 
maleriak for his life of Pope, the chief object of which was a rude and impotent attack 
«a Ibe Essay« Warburton died in 1779> snd in 1782, Dr. Warton completed bis Essay, 
and at kngith persuaded the world that he did not differ from the common opinion so 
flwch m was supposed ^. Still by pointing out what b not poetry, he gave unpardon- 
able offence to those whose names appear among poets, but whom he has reduced to 
aonlist^ and veisifieffs. 

In all this, however, our author produced no new doctrine. Hie severe arrangement 
of poets in hb dedication to Young, which announced the principles he mtended to 
apply to Pope and to the whole body of EugUsh poetry, was evidently taken from 
PUUips, the nephew of Milton« In the preface to the Theatrum of this writer, it is 

^ " I tbank yoa for the friendly delicacy in which you speak of my Essay on Pope, I never thought 
^ ve disagreed so much as you seem to imagine. AH I said, and all I think, is comprehended in these 
«owb of your own. " He chose to be the poet of reason rather than of fancy." Jitter fr«3m Dr. Warton 
toMr.Ha7ky,publisliedbyMr.Wooll,p.406. V. 



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159 UFE OF DR. WARTOM, 

asserted that ^ wit« ingenuity and teaming in verse, even elegancy itidf, thoagli iImC 
conies nearest, are one thing: true native poetry is anotfier: in which there iia 
certain air and spirit, which, perhaps, the most levned and judicious in other aits dt 
not perfectly apprehend : much 1ms is it attainable by any art or study.* On dus 
text the whole of the Essay is founded, and whatever objections were raised to it, 
while that blind admiration of Pope which accompanied his long didatonhip con- 
tinued in full force, it is now generally adopted as the test of poetical merit 
by the best critics, although the partialities which some entertain for individual poets 
may yet give rise to difference of opinion respecting the provinces of argument and 
feeUng. 

That Dr. Warton advanced no novel opinions is proved from Phillips's Prefiioe ; tnd 
PhilUps, there is reason to suppose, may have been indebted to hb node Milton lor an 
idea of poetry so superior to what was entertamed in his day. It has already hem 
noticed, that the opinions of the two Wartons, ^ the learned brothers," as they hati 
been justly styled, were congenial on most topics of literature, but peiiiapo in nothing 
more than their ideas of poetry, which both endeavoured to exemplify in thdr oim 
productions, although with diffisreni effiwt Dr. Warton was certamly, in point of 
invention, powers of description, and variety, greatly inferior to the koreat The 
Euthasiast, the Dymg Indian, the Revenge of America, and one or two of his odes, ars 
not deficient in spirit and enthusiasm, but the rest are more lemufcaUe for a conect 
and faultless elegance than for any strikmg attribute of poetry. His Odes, winch were 
coeval with those of Collins, must have sufoed greatly by comparison. So difeient 
is taste from executioa, and so strikingly are we reminded of one of Us aasertions, that 
** in no polbhed nation, after criticum has been much studied, and the Tales of wiitiDg 
established, has any very extraordinaiy work appeared.*" But while we are reauMied 
of this by his own productions, it may yet be doubtied whether what may be true whtt 
a(q»lied toanindividual who has lived a life of criticism, will be equally true of anatkm. 
Even among our living poets, we may find more than one who have giveo proofii that 
extraordinary poetry may yet be produced, and that the rules of writing are not so 
fiz^d, nor criticism so studied as to impede the progress of real genius. All that can 
be concluded respecting Dr. Warton is, that if his genius had been equal to his taste, if 
he could have produced what he appreciates with such exquisite sUll in othcn^ be 
would have undoubtedly been in poetry what he was in erudition and oritkasm. 

As an instructor and divkie» Mr. WooU's opinion of him nny be adopted with 
safety. 

'* His professional exertions united the qualities of critkism and mBtruelkiii. When 
tlie higher classes read under bun the Greek tragedians, orators, or poets, diey re- 
ceived the benefit not only of direct and qipropriate informatioo, but of a pure, 
elegant lecture on classical taste. The spirit with which he commented on the pro- 
sopopaeia of (Edipus or Electra, the genuine elegance and accuracy with which ht 
developed the animated rules and doctrines of his favourite Longinus, the insinuating 
but guarded praise he bestowed, the well-judged and proportionate encouragement 
be uniformly held out to the first dawning of genius, and the anxious assMuity with 
which he pointed out the paths to literary eminence^ can never, I am confident, be 



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UFE OF DR. WARTON, 15J 

forgotleo bj those who have hung with stedfast atteDtion on his precepts, and en* 
jo^ the advantage of his superior guidance. Zealous in his adherence to the church 
estabtishment, and exempkiry hi his attention to its ordmances and duties, he was at 
the same time a decided enemy to bigotry and intolerance. His style of preaching 
was unaffectedly earnest and impressive ; and the dignified solemnity with which he 
read the Lituigy (particularly the Communion-Service) was remarkably awfid. He 
had the most happy art of arresting the attention of youth on religious subjects. 
Efeiy Wiocamical reader will recollect his inimitable commentaries on Grotius, on the 
Sunday evenings, and his discourse annually delivered m the school on Good Friday : 
the impressions made by them cannot be forgotten."* 



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COMMENDATORY VERSES. 



tNOBITUH 
nu tmuiiw jottnit waktov, t. t. p. trc 

TAKCM ntOM MR. WOOLL^t MMfOIU. 

Ns timeii hae qnocooq; modi tibi noitiB 
XSccmuL ^ 

ABSINT inaaes Uoc Lacbrynue procdl ! 
NoOoi Dolori jkm Locus ! Ardonm 
Tifftatit Mkm Qui parcgit 
• Vifui iter, Ijicbrymii'SeiMilcliio 
Noaiadifebitoooditiitt — OTuis, 
WMtoee, BOOMo Wiocamicis ttcniiB» 
doice Mum, O booonun 
El StKliit et Amore fido 
fftof u ooltiinni ! Te qabd Hoooriboi 
DitKtkmmfilm, Infenii Pafov, 
Kitorm : qoM Doctrioa fanctas 
fiqwsiiit Tibi culta Sedei 
FiKfiqii^ poros .* qudd Tibi Muoera 
Plcai profudit larga sath Manu 
Vartona : qu6d Viitut Amiooi, 
Qnbd p^ierit THm Fama Laoroa t 
rkoducta portia (|Qod '* Tahdo inii" 
CaeeMit JElM : donte ad Ultimam 
Spwhii Tibi obicpeiif Saoactnt 
Vfac tedfto Fade MandA Ocellos 
Qwteafauuil: (nftin LachryinitTaoat ?) 
Hoc pra|Atr( vltrii Sortain Honuiu dataro^ 

"~ I T« TocaflnMy 

I Te parity bcatMn ! 
i qvte, jQfeoes pii ! 
i M miere AfortmMi 

, ii€m rereiMiaiB 
I Vrnaok 
SU profidendasi, sint Nomeri Viro 
!%■; {atqak iithie nte Labor aidirai) 
ffq^wif tantl Quia cao cndo 
Fone potet meriiot Hooores ? 
Qoe talci tM GtlianB SoQOt^ 
Qaalea periti Judicit Auribps 
C^itii placerant, el tobacto 
fafnio parity tcieatit 
Lndare Ghartis, quioqaid amabile, 
Qaioqfaid veooitam : nte mioiis acrit^ 
Notare fiicaU Nitons 
Sob Specie Macolas latentes ? 
Ceaaoris aqai, cui ote io omnibiis 
Uci Popcii Orafcia Ganninis, 
]fte Splendor Ornatiisqike Liogiui 
K^ Cadles placuere Moss, 
it ate oMftgBi Scripta nh: miidh 
Cvpait tevcrus. Lance sM aestiaians 
Oslpasqte Virtutcsqn^ ciklem. 
Pio Mcntb Fietram anogatit.— 



V^I Quis dneiido Spiritiim el aneqid 
Vim speiet ista0« Doverat intimpB 
Qui Cordis Alfectos movers 
Flectere et Arbitrio voleotes j 
Seii moUiores Virgilii Modos 
Aptare Chordis Angliace Lyras 
Felicitir tentans, agmti 
Lusit amabtlitir Camoeni ; 
Seu pleoiori Numinis igneo 
Ooneptus JEsto, Bfentis Imagines 
Effodit alt|tt, mnulosqui 
Pindarico iutonuit Furore ? 
Horrcnda quali com Sonita evomeas 
Et Saxa et Ignes JEtoa rotat Sinn ; 
Vel quaotus Oreilaoa ferret 
Vorticibos reboans profondis : 
Ille et nirosis miUe rapit Jogis 
Collectam Aqoamm Vim, rapidis mens 
Torrentibus, Cursumqu^ in ^uor 
Precipitem violentus urget — 
Sed non CamceoaB Spintus et Decor, 
Doctrina Qaicquid vk\ Pretii ferat, 
Noo eruditae Mentis^ acre 
Judicium, Ingeaiiqoe Acumen, 
Te cbariorem reddiderant Tuis, 
Wartone ; nee Desiderium Tui 
Ferrentius post Te rdinqoont : 
Quim &ciles sine Labe ilores. 
Et mitis almi Pectoris Indoles, 
Cbrdisqu^ aperti larga Benignitas, 
Festivitas orbana. Candor 
logenuut, placidique Risus. 
At qualis O ! 'Sermonis Amoenitas I 
Sive bospitali cum Sociis frueos 
Mensi anideres, spargeretque 
Lingua Sales lepidoe faceta ; 
Sententias sei^ Quid Grare pose eit 
Soblimiores : Qusb Sapientia, 
Rerumqae Verboramqoe Fondas 
Ferret Opem, du^snqne prsBsens 
Lites secaodo solreret !— Hino tua 
Vox Manda Mentes finxit adb^^ mdes | 
Arrecu sensit, Te monente, 
Insolitom Puerilis JEtas 
Doctrinae Amorem. Jim Tideor Bfihi 
Spectare chrci Te Jurenom Cboro 
Stipatom, iit olim ; Qnim silenti 
Ordine composuere Gestos ! ' 
Vt Verba captant t Quo Studio notant 
Diverse Vnltte Signa ! PlacentJoci» 
From leta, KntAs et loquacis 
Blanditin, tacit^ probantes ! 
H)nc fidum Amicum, bine Te rtHht AHaroai 
Patrrmoolebant; Quln subitb sBmuloi 
Accensus Ardor, GlotisBqne 
Corda novi iacalncre FUonal «, 



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Eo! etLabomquamSegetemieraiitl 
£a ! grata clarot Aogf ia quot Tibi 
Debere Se exnHans &tetur, 
WiccamicaB Decora alu Fams ! 
Hi di^Qi manebant) oen ttuuiaadibua 
Viriuscarebit; N^ Caiuti impia 
Abscindet hsrentem Coronmin 
Intiditt Manus impotentis* 

W. S. GoDDARR S Coll. Winton. 1800. 



ELEOY 

tntn^rtii aw iwhcim by mi. LfFtcom, rar.tow 

Of MIW COLLtOB, THBH A FRAPOVTOa Of WIK- 
C0BrTBK tCBOOL. 

Tbb noon-tide bour b past, and toil is 6*er, 

No studious caret tbe vacant mind employ. 
Yet hark! methinks no longer as before 

Yon mead re-echoes the loud shouts of joy. 
What sudden grief hath seix*d tbe youthful band ! 

Say, Wykebam'i sons, why reigns this silence* 
round ? 
Why do ye thus in mote attentioo sUnd, 

And listen to the death bell's awfiil sound ! 
Adc ye the cause ? *tis Warton's knelt ; and lo ! 

The funeral train appears in Wack array ! 
Dofm yonder hill in solemn steps and slow 

The heand wmds on its melancholy way. 
Led by affection the sad sight to view, 

The thronging youth suspend their wonted play; 
All crowd around, to bid a last adieu, 

Or, lost in thoughtful musings, steal away. 
Yet, holy shade ! for thee these tears are shed 

The sullen death-bell's lingering pause between; 
Por thee o'er all a pious calm is spread, 

And hush'd tho murmurs of this playful scene. 
O name to Wykebam's sons for ever dear, 

^Vhile thus for thee the flood of tears we pour, 
iThy partial spirit leems to linger here, 

Blessmg awhile the scenes it lov'd before. 

Within these walls, to ev'ry duty true, 

Twas thine to form the studious mind of yontb. 
To ope the fone of glory to their view, 

And point the way to science and to truth. 
And lo ! the plants that grew beneath thy care 

Now in matured age nuyestic stand, 
And spread their clusi'ring branches to the air. 

And stretch thor shadow o'er a smiling land. 
Youth may forset this tiwnsitory tear, 

But manhood foete a deeper sense of woo— 
And sure thy name to them is doubly dear 

Who to thy care their ripen'd honours owe. 

1 The excellent and indefotigable head-master 
of Winchester Coliege, under whose direction the 
school has raised itself to itt present flourishing 
state. The existing prosperity of the society, and 
the repeated success of the young men whom it 
has within these last ten years sent to the univer- 
Bity, strongly mark the toients and goveroment of 
those who oondoct the seminary, and prove to the 

• • • quid mens nt^ quid indoles 
Kutrita teitia sub penetrallbus 
Fonet Woota. 



They heard th' inciting dictates of thy tongue, 

For thou oould'st smooth the way thro' learning 
maze. 
Oft on thy words in dumb attention hung 

Till emulatioa kindled at thy praise. 
O mark their grief, e'en now m.tender hues. 

By mem'ry trac'd, their days of youth return ; 
But ah ! fond mem'ry ev'ry pang renews. 

And points with speech!^ sorrow to thine am. 
So stream their tears: but tbou arttiiroo'd on high. 

Haply the seraphs' ballow'd choir among, 
Luird by soft sounds of sweetest minstrelsy. 

While Wykeham Iktaas and upproves the song. 
O for a spark of that celestial fire (soul ! 

Wflh which bright fiuicy warm'd thy kindling 
When erst the fiill chords of thy living lyre 

Held all the list'ning passions in cootrooL 

Alaf ! tho' vain the wtih, tho* weak the lay 

That foebly celebrates a Warton's name. 
Yet, happy shade 1 there still remains a way 

To raise a lasting monument of fiime. 
Be oars the virtues thy example taught 

To feel, preserve, and practise, while we lire ^ 
Thus only can w6 praise thee as we ought. 

The noblest tribute this thy bods can give. 
Lo 1 whenAflEectionatthedoseofeve 

To yonder fane's dim cfoysters shall repair. 
No more with frvdtless aagnish shall Bbe grieve. 

But learn the lessons of true wisdom there. 

There, while she sees thy sculptur'd bust arise, 

Rais'd by the hand of gratitude and lore. 
Virtue shall consecrate her tend'rcst sighs. 

And thoughts exalted her rapt spirit more. 
Then Wykeham's sons, with ardour new imprest. 

Shall breathe one pray'r— that snch their lot may 
be; 
Prais'd by the wise and good, to sink to rest. 

And moum'd by tears, such as they died finr thee. 

Many in number, and truly worthy of the sub- 
ject, were the elegies on tbe death of Dr. Wartnn. 
To insert all would have k>een impossible, to select 
from his own judgment, the editor feels, would 
have been invidious : be has therefore confine 
himself to the above, as spoken at tbe first public 
Wykehamical meeting after the event, and oon»- 
quently endowed with the sanctioB of the sooiety. 

WOOLL. 



ENCOMIUM ON JOSEPH WARTON. 

rtoM M ant's tbrsbs to his mbmokt. 

O TowBBs of Veota, and thou gentle stream, 
Itchin, ye bending vales, and breezy downs. 
You best his praise can witness : — Oft be climb'd 
In moro of life your fir-crovnM bill, and roamM 
Your osier'd meads, and pac'd your cloisters dim ; 
You tp meridian fame beheld him rise 
Circled with Wykeham's sons, and you beheld 
How Wykeham's grateful sons the tribute paid 
Of filial love, and oheer'd his closing day. 

For well was Warton lov'd, and well Jesenr'd I 
Whether be led the faltering step of youth 
To ofier incense at the Muse's shrine ; 
Or, justly stern, check'd with forbidding fiowa 



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157 



ImpetooQi Tke ; or with approTiDg tmile 
Cherbh'd the hope§ of ▼irtoe's modest bud ; 
Strong to cooTinoe, and gentle to persuade, 
"His loogue dropt manna,'* and his ardent eye 
Spvkled with tempered rage, or beam'd with joy, 
Boondlew : nor wonder; for withio his heart 
Dwdt pore aflGsction, and the liberal glow 
Of chanty, join*d to each native grace, 
Which the sweet Muse imparts to those she loves. 
His was the tear of pity, soft as showers 
That fall on April meadows, bis the rapt 
ImpasBion*d thought, quick as the lightning's glance, 
And warm as summer suns : and every flower 
Of poesy, which by the laurelPd spring 
Of Aganippe, or that Roman stream 
Tiber, or Tuscan Amo, breath*d of old. 
Its fragrance sweet ; and every flower, which since 
Hath dnmk the dew beside the banks of Thames, 
Met in his genial breast and blossom'd there. 

Happy old man ! for therefore didst thou seek 
Ecstatic vision by the haunted stream. 
Or grove of fairy : then thy nightly ear 
(As from the wild notes of some airy harp) 
ThriU*d witli strange mu£c ; if the tragic plaints 
And soonding l3rTe of those Athenians old. 
Rich-minded poets, fisthers of the stage, 
Roos'd thee enraptured ; or the pastoral reed 
Of Mantnan TItyrus charmed ; or Dante flerce. 
Or more majestic Homer swelled thy soul. 
Or Milton's mose of fire. 
Happy old man ! Yet not in vain io\hee 
Was Faucy's wand committed : not in vain 
Did Science fill thee with her sacred lore : — 
But if of fair and lovely aught 
Of good and vinuous in her ballow'd walls, [years. 
Through tha long space of thrice twelve glorious 



Thy Venta nurtur'd ; if transplanted thence 
To the fair banks of Isis and of Cam, 
It brighter shone ; and haply thence again. 
Thence haply spread its influence through the lan^ 
That be thy praise. Be it thy praise, that thou 
Didst bathe the youthful lip in the fresh spring, 
' The pore well-head of Poesy,' didst point. 
Like thine own lov'd Longinus, to the steep 
Parnassian crag, and led'st thsrself the way ;— > 
Be it thy praise, that tbou didst clear the path 
Which leads to Virtue's fane ; not her of stern 
And stoic aspect dark, tjU Virtue wean 
The gloom of Vice; but such as warms the heatt 
To acts of love, and peace, and gentleness, 
And tcnderest charity ; such as around 
Thy earthly passage shed her cheerful light. 
And such as Wykeham best might love to view. 

So thine alloUed sUtion didst thou fill. 
And now art passed to thy peaceful grave. 
In age and honours ripe. Tlien not for thea 
Pour we the tear of sorrow, not with strains 
Like those despondent, which the Doric bard 
Wept for his Bion, do we tend on thee : 
For other hopes are ours, and other views. 
Brighter and happier scenes ! No earthly chains 
Shall in this dreary prison-house confine 
Spirits of light ; nor shall the Heav'n-bom I 
Oblivious linger in the silent cave 
Of endless hopeless sleep. But as the Sun, 
Who drove his fierce and fiery-tressed steeds 
Glorious along the vault of Heav'n, at length 
Sinks in the bosom of the western wave. 
Anon from forth the chambers of the east 
To run his giant course ; so didst thou se^ 
So mayst thou rise in glory ! 



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POEMS 



OF 



DR. JOSEPH WARTON. 



SAPPHO'S AUVICE. 

wirrmi -wbxh at winchistbr school. 

Tn'D wHli the risits of the day, 
SctMothe 00 a sofa lay; 
ind leaning on her eltov, thought 
Which was the loveliest silk she bought, 
fiov by sir Plame she was gallanted, 
Hov at the Park and Opera flaanted I 
What silly hearts she had subduM, 
Aod bow she best might play the pnide ! 
Till Sleep his heavy poppies spread, 
AdovD she drops her drowsy head ! 
Sodden a female phantom rose. 
Her cheek with healthy roses glows. 
Her fivdy eyes are fiird with fire, 
Yet modestly forbid desire : 
Her dxm curls hang loose behind. 
And borel-wreaths her temples bind : 
A mam J robe her limbs arrayed. 
While thus the vision, Sappho, said : 
— " It grieves me much, alas ! to find 
The iur neglect t*improve her mind 1 
The toys that your attention claim, 
A Grecian maid would blush to name : 
While you're adjtisting your commode. 
Labia, or I, could nwke an ode ( 
Ko gaudy ribbons deck'd her bead, 
A trembliog light oo diamond shed ; 
Ib white and innocency drest 
The plaiocst beauties were the best : 
A pea I bandied for a fan. 
And leant not bow to dance but scan : 
TTiose pretty eyes ! — how soon they dose ? 
Those cheeks — ^how fades the blushing rose ! 
When age has wean*d your love for dress, 
And akes and beaux your yestrs confess ; 
When Affiorets oo more can shine ; 
Am! Stella owns she's not divine ; 
Then sense and merit shall supply 
The Mashing cheek, the sparkling eye -, 
For nymphs, regardless of their foces, 
MU add Misenra to the Qnca," 



THE ENTHVSIASTt 

Oa TBI 

LOVER OF NATURK 

wmrTTBK IK 1740. 
Rure vero ba^rbaroque lastatur* 

— — Ut mihi dcvio 
Rupes et vacuum nemos 
Mirari libet 1 



Maitiak 



HoraoOi 



Ye greeurroVd Ihyads, 6ft at dusky eve 
By wondering shepherds seen, to forests brown. 
To unfrequented meads, and pathless wilds. 
Lead me from gardens deck'd with art's vain pompSe 
Can gilt alcoves, can marble-mimic gods. 
Parterres embroider'd, obelisks, and urns, 
Of high relief ; can the long, spreading lake. 
Or vista lessening to the sight ; can Stow, 
With all her Attic fanes, such raptures raise, 
As the thrush-haunted copse, where lightly leapt 
The fearful fawn the rustling leaves along, 
And the brisk squirrel sports from bough to bought 
While from an hollow oak, whose nak^ roots 
Overhang a pensive rill, the busy bees 
Hum drowsy lullabies } The bards of old. 
Fair Nature's friends, sought such retreats, to charm 
Sweet Echo with their songs ; oft too they met. 
In summer evenings, near sequestered bowers. 
Or mountain nymph, or Muse, and eager learnt 
The moral strains she taught to mend mankind. 
As in a secret grot ^ £geria stole 
With patriot Noma, and in silent night 
Whispered him sacred laws, he listening sat, 
Rapt with her virtuous voice, old Tyber lean'd 
Attentive on his urn, and hush'd his waves. 

Rich in her weeping country's spoils, Versaillei 
May boost a thousand fountains, that can cast 
TTie tortured waters to the distant Heav'ns ; 
Yet let me choose some pine-topt precipice 
Abrupt and shaggy, whence a foamy stream, < 
Like Anio, tumbling roars ; ,6r some bleak heath. 
Where straggling stands the mournful juniper. 



'"^^•'^"ItyfeyCSoogle 



i6o 



DR. WARTON'S POEMS. 



Or yew-tree eoeUi'd ; while in clear protpect rounds 
From the grore'i boioni spires emerge, and smoke 
In bluish wreaths ascends, ripe harvests wave. 
Low, lonely cottages, and raioM tops 
Of Oothic baitlemenU appear, and streams 
Beneath the sun-beams twinkle. — ^The shrill lark. 
That wakes the woodman to his early task. 
Or love-sick Philomel, whose luscious lays 
Sooth kme night-wanderers, the mooohig dove 
Pitied by listening milk-maid, fiir excel 
The deep-mouth*d viol, the soul-lulling lute. 
And battle-breathmg trumpet Artful sounds ! 
That please not like the choristers of air, 
When first they hail th' approach of laughing^ May. 

Can Kent design like Nature? Mark whereThames 
Plentyand pleasure pours through Lincoln's meads^ ; 
Can the great artist, though with taste supreme 
Bndu'd, one beauty to this Eden add? 
Though he, by itiles uttfetter'd, boklly scorns 
Formality and method, round and square 
Disdaining, plans irregularly great. 

Creative Titian, can thy vivid strokes. 
Or thine, O graceful Raphael, dare to vSa 
With the rich tints that paint the breathing mead ? 
The thonsand-colour'd tulip, violet's bell 
3now-(4ad and meek, the vermil-tinotur'd rose. 
And golden crocus ? — ^Yet with these the maid, 
Phillis or Phoebe, at a ieast or wake 
Her jetty locks enamels I fiurershe. 
In innocence and homespun ves tm e nts dressed. 
Than if cerulean sapphires at her ears 
Shone pendant, or a precious diamond-cross 
HeavM gently on her panting bosom white. 

Yon shepherd idly stretch'd on the rude rock, 
listening to dashing waves, and sea-mew's dang 
Higfa-bovering o*er his head, who views beneath 
The dolphin dancing o'er the Ie\'el brine, 
• Feels more true bliss than the proud admiral. 
Amid bis vessels bright with bumish'd gold 
And silken streamers, though his lordly nod 
Ten thousand war-worn mariners revere. 
And great ^neas gaz^d with more delight 
On the rough mountain shagg'd with Iiorrid shades, 
(VHiere cloud-compelling Jove, as fancy dream'd. 
Descending, shook his direful aegis black) 
Than if be enter'd the high Otpitoi 
On golden columns rear'd, a conquer'd world 
Exhausted, to enrich its stately head. 
More pleased he slept in poor Evander's cot 
On shaggy skins, lulPd by sweet nightingales. 
Than if a Nero, in an age refinM, 
Breath a gorgeous canopy had placed 
His rojral guest, and bade bis minstrels sound 
Soft slumb'rous Lydian airs, to sooth his rest. 

Happy the first of men, ere yet cuniin'd 
To smoky cities ; who in sheltering groves, 
Warm caves, and deep-sunk vallies Uv'd and lov'd. 
By cares unwounded ; what the sun and showers. 
And geiiial earth unttllagM, could produce, 
TheygatbeHd grateful, or the acorn brown 
Or blushing berry ; by the liquid lapse 
Of murm'ring waters call'd to slake their thirst, 
Or with fair nymphs their sun-brown limbs to bathe; 
With nymphs who fondly clasp'd their fav'rite 
youths. 



* The Mil qI Liiiooln's tonaco at Weybridge in 
Surrey. 



Unaw'd by shame, beneath the beecheo shade. 
Nor wiles, nor artificial coyness knew. 
Then doors and walls were not ; the melting maid 
Nor frown of parenU fear'd, nor husband's threats ; 
Nor had curs'd gold their tender hearts allur'd.: 
Then beauty was not venaL Injur'd Love, 
O ! whither, god of raptures, art thou fled ? 
While Avarice waves his golden wand around, 
Abharr*d magknan, and his costly cup 
Prepares with baneful drugs, t' enchant the soula 
Of each low-thoughted fisir to wed for gain, 
in Earth's first in£sncy (as sung the bard. 
Who strongly painted what he boldly thought). 
Though the fierce north oft smote with iron whip 
Their shiv'ring limbs, though oft the bristly boar 
Or hungry Ikxi, 'woke them with their howls. 
And scar'd them from their moss-grown caves, t* 

rove 
Houseless and ot^d in dark tenpeitooiis nights ; 
YjCt were not myriads in embatti'd fields 
Swept off at once, nor had the raging seas 
O'erwhehn'd the fonnd'ring bark and shrieking crew; 
Id vain the l^laasy ocean smil'd to tempt 
The jolly sailor, unsu^>ecting barm. 
For Commerce ne'er had spread ber swelliDg sails. 
Nor had the wond'ring Nereids ever heard 
The dating oar : then fsmine, want, and pain \ 
Sunk to the grave th^fSsmtiof limbs; bat na, 
Diseasefiil damtles, riot, and excess. 
And feverish luxury de^roy* In brakes 
Or marshes wild unknowingly they cropp'd 
Herbs of malignant juice ; to realms remote 
While we fbr powerful poisons madly roam. 
From every noxious herb collecting death. 
What though unknown to those primeval sira 
The well-arch'd dome, peopled with breathing 

forms 
By fair lutia's skilful hand, unknown 
The shapely column, and the crumbling busts 
Of awful ancestors in long descent ? 
Yet why should man, mistaken, deem it nobler 
To dwell in palaces, and high-roofd hallsy 
Than in God's forests, architect supreme ! 
Say, is the Persian carpet, than the fiekl's 
Or meadow's mantle py, more ridily mw*n; 
Or softer to the votaries of ease 
Than bladed grass, perfum'd with dew-diopt floWrs? 
O taste corrupt I that luxury and pomp. 
In specious names of polish'd manners veil'd. 
Should proudly banish Nature's shnple channs I 
All beauteous Nature ! by thy boundless charms 
Oppress'd, O where shall I begin thy praise. 
Where turn th' ecstatic eye, how ease my breast 
That pants with wild astonishment and love ! 
Dark forests, and the op'ning lawn, refreshed 
With ever-gushing brooks, hill, meadow, dale^ 
The balmy bean-field, the gay-clover'd close. 
So sweetly interchang'd, the lowing ox. 
The playful lamb, the distant water-fall 
Now fiuntJy heard, now swelling with the breeze, 

3 Some, as thou saw'st by violent stroke shall die^ 
By fire, flood, famine, by intemp'ranoe more 
In meats and drinks, which on the Earth shall bring 
Diseases dire, of Which a monstrous crew 
Before thee shall appear ; that thou mayst knov 
What misery th' inabstinence of Eve ' 
Shall bring on men. 

Paradise Loft book 11th. 



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A SATIRE. 



161 



The loiHid cfpa rt o n J retd from hMzt^Atomtr, 
Tbt dnraJ birds, tbe neigbing steed, that souffii 
His diynleri ■st tc, stuog with intense desire. 
The ripe«*il orckerd when the mddy orbs 
Betvixt t^ green leaves blotb, the azare sides. 
The obeerful San that tbnmgh Earth's TttaU pours 
Delight and heakb, and heat; all, all conspire 
To raise, to sooth, to harmonize the mind. 
To lift on wings of praise, to the great Sire 
Of being a«d of beaut|r, at whose nod 
Creation started ThNn the gloomj vault 
Of dreary Chaos, while the griesly king 
MunBar*4 to feel his boisterous power ooofin'd. 

What are the lays of artful Addison *, 
Coldly oorreot, to Shakespeare warblings wild ? 
Wboos ea the winding Avon's wUlow*d banks 
FWir Faoey (bond, and bore the smiling babe ^ 
To a close cavern : (still the shepherds show 
The saesed pUce, whenoe with religious awe 
Tbey hear, retoming from the field at eve. 
Strange wbisp^rings of sweet music through the air) 
Here, as with hoaey gathered from the rock. 
She fed the little prattler, and with songs 
Oft soath*4 his wand ring eais, with deep delight 
On her aoft lap he sat, and caught the sounds. 

Oft near some crowded city would I walk, 
Listening the far-off noises, rattling cars. 
Loud shouts of joy, sad shrieks of sorrow, knells 
Full slowly tolling, instrumeou of trade, 
Strikingmine ears with one deep-swelling hum. 
Or wano'riQg near the sea, attend the sounds 
Of bdkiw winds, and ever-beating waves. 
£r^ when wild tempests swallow up the plains. 
And Boreas' blasts, big bail, and rains combine 
To shake the groves nod mountains, would 1 sit, 
Pemively musing on the outrageous crimes 
That wakeBeaven^s vengeance: atsuch solemn hours, 
DemoM «Dd goblins through the dark a'u- shriek, 
While Heoat, with her black-brow'd sisters nine, 
Rides o*er the Earth, and scatters woes and death. 
Then too, they say, in drear j^gyptian wikls 
The Uon and the tiger prowl for prey 
With roarings loud ! the listening traveller 
Starts fear struck, white the hollow echoing vaults 
Of pynraids increase the deatbfiil sounds. 

But let me never feil in cloudless nights, 
Whes sUeot Cynthia in her silver car 
Tbnmgh the blue coocaveslides, when shine the hills. 
Twinkle the strfams,«nd woods look tip'd with gold. 
To seek some level mead, and there invoke 
Old Midntgfat^s sister. Contemplation sage, 

* When Voltaire preferred Cato to tlie tragedies 
of S hsks pcar, I am inclined to suypect there was as 
■ndi malice as depravity of taste in the decision. 
The English drama be well knew was not exalted 
if his paaeginric, whilst he intended that it should 
be sensibly depreciated by his censure. The justly 
edcfarsted Mrs. Montague, in her Essay oo the 
Writings and Genius of our great dramatic poet, 
hssconyletely refuted the French critic's mtsrepre- 



^ Far fipom the Sun and summer xale 
In thy green lap was Nature's darling laid. 
What time, where lucid Avon stray'd. 
To him the mighty mother did unveil 
Her awefiil fisce. The dauntless child 
Stretched forth his little arms and smil'd. 

-^ Gray. 

VouXVIU, 



(Queen of the rugged brow and stem-fixt eye) 
To lift my soul above this little Farth, 
This folly-fctter'd world : to purge my ears, 
That I may bear the rolling planets* song. 
And tuneful tugiing spheres : if this be barr*d. 
The little Fays ^ that dance in neighbouring dales. 
Sipping the night-dew, while they laugh and love* 
Shall charm me with aerial nutcs. — As thus 
I wander musing, lo, what aweful forms 
Yonder appear ! sharp-eyd Philosophy 
Clad m <lun robes, an eagle on his wrist. 
First meets rov eye ; next, virgin Solitude 
Serene, who blushes-at each gaser's sight ; 
Then Wisdom's hoary head, with crutch in hand. 
Trembling, and bent with age ; last Virtue's self 
Smiling, in white array'd, wtio with her leads 
Sweet Innocence, that prattles by her side, 
A naked boy I — Harassed with fear I stop, 
I gaze, when Virtue thus—" Whoe'er thou art. 
Mortal, by whom 1 deign to be beheld 
In these my midnight-walks ; depart, and say. 
That henceforth I and my immortal train 
Forsake Britannia's isle ; who fondly stoops 
To Vice, her favourite paramour." — She spoke \ 
And as she turned, her round and rosy neck. 
Her flowing train, and long ambrosial hair. 
Breathing rich odours, I enamonr'd view. 

O who will bear me then to western climes, 
(Since Virtue leaves our wretched land) to fields 
Yet unpolluted with Iberian swords : 
The isles of Innooence, from mortal view 
Deeply rctir'd, beneath a plantanc's shade. 
Where Happiness and Quiet sit enthron'd. 
With simple Indian swains, th;^ I may hunt 
The boar and tiger through savannahs wild. 
Through fragrantdeserts, and through citron groves^ 
There, fed on dates and herbs, would 1 despise 
The far-fetch 'd cates of luxury, and hoards 
Of narrow-hearted avarice ; nor heed 
The distant din of the tumultuous world. 
So when rude whirlwinds rouse the roaring main. 
Beneath feir Thetis sits, in coral caves. 
Serenely gay, nor sinking sailors' cries 
Disturb her sportive nymphs, who round her form 
The light fiintastic dance, or for her hair 
Weave rosy crowns, or with according lutos 
Grace the soft warbles of her honied voice. 



FASUIONt 

A SATIEE. 

Honestiusputamus, quod foBqueothis ; reoti apvi 
nus locum tenet error, ubi publieos feotus. 



Yss, yes, my friend, disguise it as you will. 
To right or wrong tis Fashkyi guides us still | 

€ Thus in the Midsummer Night's Dream Shaloi- 
spear puu i«to the mouth of the Fairy : 
I must go seek some dew drops here. 
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. 
•» Dixit : et avertens rosc4 cervice refulsit, 
Ambrosixq; comae divinum vertice odorem 
Spirav^re : pedes vestis defluxit ad imos, 
£t vera incessu patuit Dea. 

Virg. JEa, 1st. 

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DR. WARTON'S FOEMS. 



A few perhaps rise singularly good. 
Defy and stem the fool-o'erwhelming flood ; ' 
The rest to wander from their brethren fear. 
As 80cial herrings in large shoals appear. 
. Twas not a taste, but powerful node, that bade 
Yon* purblind, poking peer run picture road ; 
With the same wonder-gaping face he stares 
On flat Dutch daubing, as on Guido's ahs ; 
What might his oak-crown'd manors mortgaged gain? 
Alas ! five faded landscapes of Loraine ». 

Not so GargiliuB — sleek, voluptuous lord, 
A hundred dainties smoke upon his board ; 
Earth, air, and ocean 's ransackM for the feast, 
la masquerade of foreign olios dressM ; 
Who praises, in this saucc-enamour*d age. 
Calm, healthful tcmp'rance, Jike an Indian sage : 
But could he walk in public, were it said, 
•* Gargihus din'd on beef, and eat brown bread ?" 
Happy the gn>tto'd hermit with his pulse. 
Who wants no truffles, rich ragouts — nor Hnlse «. 

How strict on Sundays gay Lostilia's face ! 
How ctirPd her hair, how clean ber Brussels face ! 
She lifts her eyes, her sparkling eyes to Heav'n, 
Most nun-like mourns, and hopes to be fbrgiT>]i. 
Think not she prays, or is grown penitent- 
She went to church — because the parish went 

Close Chremes, deaf to the pule widow's grief, 
P>rts with an unsmin*d guinea for relief ; 
Ko meltings o'er his ruthless bosom steal. 
More than fierce Arabs, or proud t3rrantsfsel ; 
Yet, since his neighbours give» the churi uolocki, 
Damning the poor, his triple-bolted booL 

Why loveft not Hippia rank obscenity ? 
Why would she not with twenty porteri lie } 
Why not in crowded Malls quite naked walk ? 
Not aw'd by \-irtue— but •* The world wouW tattu"— 
Yet how demurely looks the wtsbhiff maid. 
For ever, but in bed, of man afraid T 
Thus Hammon's spring ^ by day feels icy-coo), 
At night is hot as Hell's sulphureous pool. 

Each panting warble of Vesconti's throat, 
To Dick, is heav'nlier than a seraph's note j 
The trills, he swears, soft-stealing to his brMst, 
Are lullabies, to sooth his careS to rest ; 
Are sweeter far, than Laura's hiscious kiss. 
Charm the whole man, and lap his soul in blist : 
Who can such counterfeited raptures bear. 
Of a deaf fool who scarce can thunders hear ? 
Crowdero might with him for Festin pass. 
And touching Handel yield to trifling Hasse. 

But curd-fac'dCurio comes I all prate, and smile. 
Supreme of beaux, great bulwark of our isle ! 
Mark well his feather'd hat, his gilt cockade, 
'Kich rings, white hand, and eoat of stiff brocade ; 
Suchweak-wing'd May-flies Britain's troops disgrace. 
That Flaudria, wond'ring, mourns ouralter'd race : 
With him the fair, enraptur'd with a rattle. 
Of Vauxhall, Garrick, or Pamela, prattle : 
This self-pleas'd king of emptiness permit 
At the dear toilette harmlessly to sit ; 
As mirthless infants, idling out the day. 
With wooden swofds, or toothless puppies pfay : 
Tisinaeaner (cries the manling) to conunajid 
A conquering host, or sate a sinking land» 

> Claude Lorahie. 

* Sir Edward Hulse, the physieiam 

s Lucretias, lib. vi. 846. 



Than furl fair Flavians fan, or lead a diuoe^ 
Or broach new-minted fashions fresh from Fnoee. 
O France, whose edicts govern dress and mest, 
Thy victor Britain bends beneath thy feet ! 
Strange! that pect grasshoppers should Ikwsletd, 
And teach to hop, and chirp across the mead : 
Of fleets and laurell'd chiefs let others boast, 
Thy honours are to bow, dance, boil, and raasL 
Let Italy give mimic canvas fire. 
Carve rock to life, or tune the lulling lyre ; 
For gold let rich PoCosi be renown'd. 
Be balmy-breathing gums in India found : 
'Tis thine for sleeves to teach the shantiest cots, 
Give empty coxcombs more hnportant struts, 
Prescribe new rules for knots, hoops, manteaus^iPt 
Shoes, soups, complexions, coaches, farces, jigi. 
Muscalia dreams of last night's ball till ten, 
Drinks chocolate, strokes Fop, aud sleeps agaia ; 
Perhaps at twelve dares ope her drowsy eyes. 
Asks Lucy if 'tis late enough to rise ; 
By three each curl and feature justly sat. 
She dines, talks scandal, visits, plays piquette : 
Meanwhile her babes with some foul nurse remain. 
For modem dames a mother's cares disdain ; 
Each fortnight once she bears to see the brati, 
" For oh, they stun one's ears, like squaUhig cats!" 
Tigers and pards protect, and nurse their young, 
The parent-snake will roll her forked tongue, 
The vulture hovers vengeful o*er her nest, 
If the rude hand her helpless brood infest ; 
Shall lovely woman, softest frame of HeavHi, 
To whom were tears, and feeling pity git'n. 
Most fashionably cruel, less regard 
Her oaring, than the Tultnre, snake, and pard } 

What art, O Fashion, pow'r supreme below ! 
You make us virtue, nature, sense, forego ; 
You sanctify knave, atheist, whore, and Mi, 
And shield from justice, shame, and ridicule. 
Our grandamcs modes, long absent from our eftt, 
At your all-powerful biding duteoua rise ; 
As Arethusa sunk beneath the plaru 
For many a league, emerging flows again ; 
Now Mary's mobs <, and flounces 3roa approve. 
Now shape-disguising sacks, and shppers love : 
Scarce have you chose (like Fortune fbnd to joke) 
Some reigning dress, but you the choice rev<d» : 
So when the deep-tongu'd organ's notes sweD high. 
And loud hosannahs reach the distant sky, 
Hark, how at once the dying stnuBS decay. 
And soften unexpectedly away. 
The peer, prince, peasant, soldier, tqoire, divfaie^ 
Goddess of change, bend low before your shrine^ 
Swearing to follow, wheresoe*er you lead. 
Though you eat tCMSuls or walk upon your head. 

'TIS hence belles game, intrigue, sip citron-dratts. 
And hide their lovely locks with heads of rams ^ : 
Hence girls, once modest, without blush appear, 
With legs displayed, and swan-soft bosoms bare; 
Hepce stale, autuomal dames, still deckM wifli 

laces. 
Look like vile canker'd coins in velvet cases. 
Ask you, why whores lire more belov'd than whres, 
Why weeping virtue exil'd, flattery thrireiy 



4 Mary Queen of Scots mobs, much ivoni by tht 
ladies. 
* Tete de mouton, literally trapslated. 



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ON A BUTTERFLY. 



163 



Wky, wad for p w wi o oi , Britooi yooo; and old 
Adon base ministers, those calves of gold, 
Whj fiitliDg templars on religiun joke, 
7^ rosy jnrtioes, drirtk, doze, and sinoke, 
DoU critics oo best bards pour bamiless spite. 
As babes that mumble coral, caniK>t bite. 
Why kiiav<fs malicious, brother-knaves embrace. 
With hearts of gall, but courtly Mniliug face. 
Why iconiful Folly from her gaudy coach, 
At sUrrmg houseless Virtue pouits reprmch. 
Why Av'rice is the great ttll-wor«hipp'd god ? 
Methiaks some demoo answers — " 'Tis tiie m<ide!'* 

At this Corruption smile:* with ghastly grin, 
Freiaging triumphs to her mothe. Sin ; 
Who, as with baneful wiug^ aloft she flies, 
** This fiilling land be mine !'* — exulting cries ; 
Orim TVranny attends her on her way. 
And frovos, and wheU his sword that thirsts to slay. 

Look from the frigid to the torrid zone, 
By custom all are led, by nature none. 
Tlie hungry TarUr rides upon his meat «, 
To oook the dainty flesh with bntUicks' heat : 
The Chinese complaisantly Ukes his bed 
With his big wife, and is with caudle fed. 
How would our tender British beauties sliriek. 
To see slim beaux oo bulls their lances break I 
Yst DO Lucinda, in heroic Spain, 
Admits a youth, but who his beast has slain. 
See, wood*rous lands, where the fell victor brings 
Td his glad wives, the heads of slaughtered kings. 
The mangled beads 1 — o'er which they sing and 

laugh. 
And hi dire bmnquets the warm life-blood quaff ; 
Where youths their grandsiret, age-bent, trembling. 

Pitying their weary weakness, kindly slay ; 
Wheps sainted Brachmans, sick of life, retu^ 
To die spontaneous on the spicy pyre ; 
Where (stranger still ! ) with their wild dates content, 
The simple swains no sighs for gold torment. 

How fondly partial are our judgments growi^ 
We deem all manners odious but our own ! 

teach me, friend, to know wise Nature's rules, 
And laugh, like you, at Fashion's hoodwink'd fools; 
You, who to woods remov'd from modish sin, 
Dsipise the distant world's hoarse, busy din : 
As shepherds from high rocks hear fiw below, 
Hesr uncoocenM loud torrente fiercely flow ; 
Yen, though mad millions the mean taste upbraid, 
Who still lova Vhrtue, fair, forsaken maid ; 
As Bacchus channing Ariadne bore. 
By lU abaodon'd, from the lonesome shore. I 



Not Judah's king in eastern pomp array'd. 
Whose charmii allur'd firom far the Sbeban maid. 
High on his glitt'ring throne, like you could shino 
(Nature's completest miniature divine) ;^ 
For thee the rose her balmy buds renews. 
And silver lillies fill their cups with dews ; 
Flora for thee the laughing iieldj? perfumes. 
For thee Pomona sheds lier choicest blooms, 
Soft Zephyr wafb* tliee on his gentlest gales 
OVr Hackwood's sunny hills and verdant vales ; 
' For thee, gay queen of insects ! do we rove ^ 

I From walk to walk, from beauteous grove to grove; 
i And let the critics know, whose pedant pride 
' And awkward jests our sprightly sport deride : 
That all who h^iours, fame, or wealth pursue. 
Change but the name of things— 4hey hunt for y* • 



VERSES 



ON A BUTTERFLY. 

FAncbUdoTSuDaodSuimDeri we behoM 
Wilh eager eyes thy wings bedropp»d with gold -, 
The purple spoU that o'er thy mantle spread, 
Tht sapphire's lively blue, the ruby's red. 
Ten thousand various blended tints surprise, 
Beyond the rainbow's hues or peacock's eyes : 

< The following focta are taken from the accounts 
fl( diftoeat couDtriea. 



ODE TO FANCY. 

O PARXNT of each lovely Muse, 
I Thy spirit o'er my soul diffuse, 
I OVr all my artless songs preside, 
j My footsteps to thy temple guide, 
; To offer at thy turf-built shrine. 
In golden cups no costly wine. 
No murder'd fotling of the flock, 
But flowers and honey from the rock. 
O nymph with loosely-flowing hair, 
I With buskin'd leg, and bof^ai bare, 
< Tliy waist with myrtle-girdle hound. 
Thy brows with Indian feathers crown'd, 
Waving in thy snowy hand 
An all-commanding magic wand. 
Of pow'r to bid firesh gardens blow, 
'Mid cheerless Lapland's barren snow. 
Whose rapid wings thy flight convey 
Thro* air, and over earth and sea. 
While the vast various landscape lies 
Conspicuous to thy piercing eyes. 
O lover of the desert, hail I 
Say, in what deep and pathless vale« 
Or on what hoary mountain's skle, 
'Mid fall of watCTS, you reside, 
'Mid broken rocks, a nigged scene. 
With green and grassy dales between. 
Mid forests dork of aged oak » , 
Ne'er echoing with the woodman's stroke. 
Where never human art appear'd. 
Nor ev'n one straw-rooPd cot was rear'd. 
Where Nature seems to sit alone. 
Majestic on a craggy throne ; 
Tell me the path, sweet wand'rer, tell. 
To thy unknown sequester'd cell. 
Where woodbhies cluster round the door. 
Where shells and moss o'erlay the floor, 
And on whose top an hawthorn blows. 
Amid whose thickly-woven boudis 
Some nightingale still builds her nest. 
Each evening warbling thee to rest : 

* Of pine or monumental oak 
Where the rude axe with heaved stroke 
Was never heard the nymphs !o daunt, 
Ur fright them from their hallow 'd haimt. 

Il Ps.NstaofO. 



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DR. WARTON^ 'POtUS. 



Tben lay me % tlie h^^nted etreAin, 
Rapt Iti Twm* wild, jjHjytTC drft»m, 
In converse «'hile methittlcs I rore 
With Spcnset t ft rough a fa^ry i^jtwe ; 
Till, suddenly nwakkl, I hear ^ 
Strftfige ftrhu^per'd mu^ic in my ear, 
nAnd my ^hd soul m bliss Ls drowned ' 
By the »w€ci^y-*oottiins sound ! 
Me. gtjddess^ by the right hand (cad 
Somelimcs tb rough the yi-Udw mead, 
Wliem Joy anil white -rob'd P^cc rcSOtt, 
'And Wnus ke*?p$ E>er foslivc cwft, 
Where Mirth and Vouth eai^li eveninf mett. 
And jighlly trip with Dtmhle (cei, 
fJodding their hly-crwnetl heariSj 
Where Laughter roae-hp'd Hebe teadj; 
Where Echo walks steep bUlt anumg, 
Ii8t*iiiBg to t&e ■hepbffd's 801^: 
Yet not these flowery fields of py 
Can long my pentive raind employ, 
Haste^ Fancy, irbm the seeiles of fbtly. 
To meet the matron Melancholy, 
Goddess oftbe tearful eye, ,. 
That lo^es to ifbld her anp^ and sigh ; 
Let us with silen^ Mstepa,gp 
To chamois and t|ie bouse of woe, p ; 
To Golhie cburdieai vaidts, i^od lombf, 
Ifhereeaeh sad night som^.Tirgm comes^ 
With tiirobbmg br^AS^ find jfoded (^heelL, 
Her promis'4i'i;«4egTP<W»'«^vn tq 9eek; 
Or to some abbey's. mouW'ri^g tov'rs. 
Where, to avoi^ cold wii»try,f|bow*r8. 
The nadied h^garj^y^nKig4i^f » ^^ 
While wlu|liUi«t9Wfm rqni4]^qr rise. 
And tremblea lest the tp|l£i3iig jrall 
Should on her 8te<g»ing >PfM^ ^L 
Now let us loudffr «tc4(e 4^ lyi^ . 
For my heart glo^t.«a^ maitial fire, 
I feel, I feet, with su44ep b«ft. 
My big tumu1tu^9 Uopow o^U . 
The trumpet^filangourRpi^ftiPy ear, 
A thoosaad widof s' ^hriekft I hear, 
OtTe me another hors^ | cnf> • . 
JLo! the base Q9)lic9««9droB$§yj,, 
Whence is ftis r%ge ^-r-wjiat spirit, aay 
To battle hurrlci mc 4iway ? 
Tis Fancy, in her fiery car, 
Transports xu^ tt> tlie thickest w^r, 
There vbiri» me o'er tliP Wlh of ^laiij, 
Whert Tujiwlt and Destmctiuu reiSFI k 
Where ttiad ^ilt| pain> the wQunded steed 
Trample^ th« dyiiig and th« dead; 
Where giant Terrour sUlks an>ttncl, 
Witli suVlen joy survey A the pouwl, 
Audi pointing to tb' enB»nguiu*d field. 
Shakes his dreadful Korgou shitijd ! 
O guide me from this borrid acetie. 
To higb-arcb'd walks apd aibys green^ 
Which lovely Laura seeks, to shun 
The fcrvoura of the mid-day sunj 



S And aitw^,aweet music 6f«i&e 
Above, about, or underneath, 
8ent by tome spirit to mortab f<Wd, 
Or Ifa' unseen geuua of tiie wowL 

It FsMtntoto. 
'This IS not ody 'an origfaii, 6iit N^dtiBerfttllyt 
^poel^'idea. 



Th6 pangs oTabftebee, 6 t^SfmMi 1 
For thou canst ^tace me near my lof^. 
Canst fold in Tisionary bliss. 
And let me i)iink I steal a kisi. 
While her ruby lips dispense 
Luscious nectar's quintessence ! 
ViHbeQ^ong-eyed Spring poftjiely; IW3i* 
From her green lap the 'pink tt6d raie. 
When the soft turtle of the dale 
To Summer tells her tender t»le, 
^Whcn Autumn coding caverns seefa. 
And stains with wine his jolly chedcs ; 
When Wmter, like poor pilgrim blfl^ 
Shakes his nlver beard with cold ; 
At every season let my ear 
Thy solemn whimpers. Fancy, hear.. 
O warm, enthusiastic maid, 
Without thy powerfVil, vital aid. 
That breathes an energy divine. 
That gives a soul to every line, 
Ne'er mav I strive with Ifps profiittt 
To utfer iln dnhallow'd strain^ 
Nor dare ^o to^ich the sacred stri^^ 
Save when with smiles thou hid*st tDe1ni|; 
O l^r bur prayer, O hitlier coiiie 
From thy lahitoted Shak^^r^i VSttb^ 
On which thou lov'stto sH at e^. 
Muting oW Chy darlittg's ^^ ; 
O iqueen of ntimben, once a^iih 
Animate some chosen swafh. 
Who, filFd with unexhkustcxl'llre, 
M(iy boldly smite the sounding lyre-. 
Who with some MW tiTfe<|tfalra '&»{(, 
May rise abohre the Htymiifg thrtHig, 
O'er all our list'ning passions reign. 
Overwhelm our soiils ^irHhjoy afid'pi 
With terrour shake, and pity move. 
Rouse with revenge, or m^lt Wfth love, 
^ deign t* Attend his evedlrig ^ilk, 
With inm in' groves and grbttos'YsOk ; 
T«ich bim to scorn with fApd^it 
Feebly to toueh th' trnr^ptdfd'TMH ; 
like lightning, let hi8>fghty'^6Ae 
^e bc»om's inmost fbMhiK piej^ ; 
With native beatities win d^aiise ' 
Beyottd cdM critka' i^udied ^if« ; 
O let each Ik^se's^flfheliicrftie, 
O bid l^tanhla'viVal XO^iede. 



ODE TO HEALTH, 

wirrTBN ON ▲ RicoTEar from tbx •luxt^rojbr 

O wnBTBsa with laborious clowns 

In mea<h ^nd.woqdg|}M)u lo^st todwdl. 
In noisy merchant-crowded towns, 
Or.hkthe.t^mpemM.Bmchmiiff MH ; 
\/h» ifcm the meads: of Gonges'ifruitfol^flMd, 
Wet with suTeet dew^ collects his fiowery Ibod ; 
In Bath- or fn Mcnipellierl'Milbs, 

Or Kch Bermud'tf Wmytfle^ ^ , 
Ok- QiecMdIffdHh, imbiefaf::j«ff^fi» 
Ne'er saw the purple autumn smile, 
^W«oo^ iHpK 6Piiid#; %M ^yeHs di^. 
By twinklitig amr-iight drhwf U tf W j fhifl fc y ^ ' 



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OHE TO SUP^RSTnTQN. 



165 



lovdy qneen of mirth and. eas«. 

Whom absent, beaiity/ Banquets, wine, 
Hit, miuuc, pomp, nor science please, 
And kin^ 90 ivorjr couches pine, 
Nature's kind nunt, to whom by gracious HeaVn 
To sooCh the puigt of toibome life lis giv'n ; 
To aid a languid wretch, repair. 

Let pale-ey'd Orief thy presence fly. 
The restleai demon, gloomy Care, 
And meagre Melancholy, die ; 
Drire to some lonely rock the giant Pain, 
And bind him howling with a triple chain ! 
O come, restore my ajdng sight ^ 
Yet let me not on Laura gaze. 
Soon must 1 quit that dear delight, 
0*er-power»d bj Beauty's piercing rays ^ 
Support my feeble feet, and largely shed 
Thy oil of gtadaen on my fiuntmg head. 
How neariy had my splflt paM, 

Till stopt by Mctcalfs skiKVil hand. 
To Death'i dark regions fHi\e ai>d wt^tf. 
And the black river'^ moumfiM strrnd ; 
Or to those vales of joy, ttid meadoir-s bTeit, 
Where nges, beit^f^ patriots, poets t€^t ; 

Where Bffhro and Musa^us sit 

Lis^ning to Milton'E Loftier ioi}^« 
With ancrHi fiEeot trondcr smit ; 
While, tDonarch of I he taneful Ihror.g-, 
Homer in raptufe liurows bis tntmpci dovin, 
And to the BiiiQR gives bli amiifamLiae crown. 



ODE TO SUPERSTITION. 

HncB to iome convent's gloomy isles. 
Where cheerful dayFight nerer smiles : 

I^fiant 1 froBi Albion haste, to slavish Rome, 
There bf dim taper's livid light. 
At the still solemn hours of night, 

b pemive mosings walk o'^r many a sounding tomb. 
Thy danking chains, thy crimson steel. 
Thy venon^'d darts, and barbarous wheel, 

Maligftant fiend, hear from this isle away, ' 
Kor dare in erroor's fetters bind 
One active, freebom, British mind ; [sway. 

Ihat stroQgly strives to spring indignant from thy 
Then bad'st grim Moloch's frowning priest 
Skwtdi screaming iu£uits from the breast, 

BeganiletB of the frantic mother's woes ; 
Tboa led'st the ruthless sons of Spain 
To wond'ring India's golden plain, 

Fnn deluges of blood wbeie tenfold harvests ros^. 
Bat lo ! l)0w fwifUy art thou fled. 
When Reason Kfts his radiant head ; 

When his resounding, awful voice they hear, 
Blind IgnOMnot, tht doting sire, 
Thy daughter, trembling Feir, retire ; 

Aad all thy ghastly train of terruurs disappear. 
So by the Magi hail'd from &r. 
When t^htthus mounts his early car, 

The shrieking ghosts to their dark chamels flock ; 
The fiill'gorg'd wolves retreat ; no more 
The prowling lionesses roar, [rock. 

But hutea with their prey to tome deep-<*avern'd 



Hail then, ye friends of Reason bail. 
Ye foes to Myrtery's ddibur veil, - 

To Truth's hi^h temple guide my steps aright. 
Where Clark and WoUa^ori reside. 
With I/H:ke and Newton b}P their side. 

While Plato' sits above enthroned in endless light 



ODE 



TO A GENTLIj;:^lAJf ON tllS TJjJAVEl^ 

' While I «rith fond officious care 
For you my chorded shell prepare. 
And not unmindful frame an humble lay. 
Where shall tWs verse my Cynthio find ? 
What scene of art now charms your mind. 
Say on what sacred spot of Roman ground you stray? 
Perhaps you cn\] fai^b valley's Uloom, 
To strew o'er \1i^il*s lauicU'd tomb. 
Whence oft at mJdnljht eebotng voicd sotmd j 

For at the hour of i^iknoej there 
^ Th^ shades nF aucletit bards repair. 
To join in choral *ong hj*i bpJfowM ura around : 
Or wander in tlks cooUiig srliadc 
Of Sabine bow'rs, 1* hiTc Horace stray 'd^ 
And ojt repeat ia ca^r thought elate, 
(As round m tla^tc irarch you trace 
With curioiis eyif the pleasing place) [sate.** 
"That fount hfelov^arid th^rt; beneath that bil*ba 
How longs my ruptiir'd breast with you 
Gre^t Raplintl'* augic strokes to view, 
To whose blest liarui each chartn the Graces gave! 
Whence each fatr form with beamy glows 
Like that of Vi:um, when she rose 
Naked in blushing cJmnms fh>ai Ocean** boaiy wove. 
As oft by roving fancy led 
To smooth Clitumnusf banks you tiend. 
What awful thoughts his fabled waters raise ! 
While the low-thougbted swain, whose flock 
Grazes around, from some steep nxk 
With vulgar disregard his mazy course surveys. 
Now thro' the ruin'd domes my Muse 
Yodr steps with eager flight pnrsues. 
That their cleft piles on Tyber's plains present, 
Among whose hollow-winding cells 
t&^om and wild Rome's genius dwells. 
His golden sceptre broke, and purple mantle rent 
Oft to those mossy mouldering walls. 
Those davems dark and silent halls. 
Let me repair by midnight's paly fires ; 
There muse on empire's fallen state, 
And frail ambition's hapless &te, [inspires. 
While more than mortal Uunights the solemn scene 
WTiat lust of pow'r from the cold north 
Could tempt those Vanda1<robbers forth. 
Fair Italy, thy vine^lad vales to waste ; 
Whose hands profane, with hostile Made, 
Thy story'd temples dar'd invade. 
And all thy Parian seats of Attic ait defac'd • 
They weeping Art in fetters bound. 
And gor'd ber breast with many a wound. 
And veil'd her charms in clouds of thickest night • 
Sad Poesy, mtkch-injur'd maid, * 

They drove to some dim convent's shade,riight 
And quench'd in gloomy mst ber Unp's le^lendent 

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DR. WARTON^ POEMS. 



There long fhe wept, to darlcnets doom'd. 
Till Cosmo's band ber ligbt relum'd, 
Tbat once again m lufty Tasso shone ; 

Since has sweet Spenser caught her fire, 
. Sbt breath'd once more in Milton's lyre, [sod« 
And warm'd the soul divine of Shakcspear, Fancy's 
Nor she, mild queen, wiU cease to smile 
On her Britannia's mticb-lov*d isle, [bom. 
Where these, her best her favourite Three were 
While Theron ^ warbles Grecian strains. 
Or polishM Doddingtdn remains, 
The drooping tniio of arts to cherish and adoni. 



ODE TO LIBERTY. 

O ooDDiss, on whose steps attendi 

Pleasure and laughter-loving Ue^Uth, 

W^ite-mantled Peace, with olive-wand, 

Young Joy, and diamond-sceptred W^th, 

Blithe Plenty, with her loaded horn, 

With Science, hnght-ey'd as the mom. 

In Britain, which for ages past 

Has been thy choicest darling care ; 

Who mad'st her wise, and strong, and fiur, 

May thy best blessings ever last ! 

For thee the pining prisoner mourns, 

I>'priv»d of food, of mirth, of ligbt ; 

Fbr thee pale slaves to gallies chain'd 

That ply tough oars from mom to night ; 

Thee the proud Sultan's beauteous train 

By eunuchs guarded, weep in vain, 

Tearinsr the roSes from their locks ; 

And Guinea's captive kings lament. 

By christian lords to labour sent, 

Whipt like the dull, unfeeling ox. 

Inspired by thee, deaf to fond nature's cries, 

S(em Brutus, when Rome's genius loudly calVd, 

Gave her the matchless tilial sacrifice, 

Unable to behold her power enthrali'd ! 

And he of later age, but equal fame, 

Dar^d stab the tyrant though he lov'd the friend j 

How burnt U;e Sparton » with warm patriot fljone. 

In thy great cause his valorous life to end ! 

How burst Gustavus from the Swedish mine ! 

like light from chaot dark, eternally to shine. 

When Hcav'n to all thy joys bestows , 

And graves ppon our hearts— be free I— - 

Shall coward man those joys resign. 

And dare reverse this great decree } 

Submit him to some idol king. 

Some selfish, passion-guided thrag. 

Abhorring man, by mah abhorr'd. 

Around whose throne >»tonds trembling Doubt, 

Whose jealous eyes still roll about. 

And Murder with his reeking sword } 

Where tramplmg Tyranny with Fate, 

And black Revenge gigantic goes ; 

Hark, how the dying infknU shriek. 

How hopeless age in sunk in woes ! 

Fly, mortals, from that faded land. 

Though rivers roll o'er golden sand, 

1 The author of the Pleasures of Imagination. 
t Leonida^ 



Though birds in shades of cassia sing. 
Harvests and fruits spontaneous rise 
No storms disturb the smiling skies, 
And each soft breeze rich odours bring. 
Britannia wateh ! — remember peerleat^Rone, 
Her high-tower'd head dash'd meanly to the groond} 
Rememl>er, fireedom's guardian, Grecia's doom. 
Whom weeping the despotic Turk has bound ; 
May ne'er thy oiik-crown'd hills, rich meads and 
(Fame, virtue, courage, property, forgot) [dovn^ 
Thy peaceful villages, and busy towns. 
Be doom'd some death-dispensing tyrant's lot; 
On deep foundations may thy freedom stand. 
Long as the surge shall lash thy sea-encircled land. 



ODE AGAINST DESPAIR^ 

Fakbwbll thou dimpled cherab, Joy, 

Thou rose-crown'd ever-smiling boy. 

Wont thy sister Hope to lead. 

To dance along the primrose mead ! 

^o more, bereft of happy hours, 

I seek thy lute-resounding bow'rs, ■ 

But to yon rain'd tow'r repair. 

To meet the god of groans, Dnpair; 

Who, on that ivy-darken'd g^und. 

Still takes at eve his silent round. 

Or sits yon new-made grave beside. 

Where lies a frantic suicide : 

While lab'ring sighs my heart-strings break. 

Thus to the sullen power I speak : 

"Haste with thy poison'd dagger, haste. 
To pierce this sorrow-laden breast ! 
Or lead roe, at the dead of night. 
To some sea-beat mountain's height. 
Whence with headlong haste I'll leap 
To the dark bosom of the deep ; 
Or show me, far from human eye. 
Some cave to muse in, starve, and die ; 
No weeping friend or brother near, 
My last, fond, faltering words to hear !'* 

'Twas thus, with weight of woes opprest, 
I sought to eafe my^ braised breast : 
When straight more gloomy grew the shade. 
And lo ! a tall majestic maid ! 
Her limbs, not delicately foir, 
Robust, and of a martial air ; 
She bore of steel is polish'd shield, 
Where highly-scolptur'd I beheld 
Th' Athenian martyr * smiling stand, 
The baleful gubfet in his hand ; 
Sparkled ber eyes with lively flame, 
And Patience was the seraph's nama ; 
Sternly she look'd, and stem began-^ 
'* Thy sorrows cease, complainmg man. 
Rouse thy weak soul, appease thy muao. 
Soon ^re the clouds of ttdnessgone ; 
Tho' now in Griefs dark groves you walk. 
Where griesly fiends around you stalk. 
Beyond, a blissful city lies. 
Far from whose gates each anguish flies ; 
Take thou this shield, which once of yom 
Ulysses and Alcides wore. 
And which in later days I gave 
To Regulus and Raleigh brave, 

> Socrates. 

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ODE ON SHOOTING . . .TO CONTENT. 



.I6t 



Id csw or tS dnn^oon dresr 
Tbeir mij^bty mhidi could banish fear } 
Tb7 beirt do tenfold woes shall foel, 
Tnt Vntne tempered the rotigh sted, 
Jbd, by her heamly fingers wrought, 
1^ ae the piccioas present broaght.** < 



ODE ON SHOOTING. 

Knim of the forests, that young oaks protect 
Fioo noxioas blasts, and the blue, thunder's dart, 
O how securely might ye dwell 
In Britain's peacefnl shades, 
Far from grim woItcs, or tigers' midnight roar. 
Or crimsonhcrested serpents' hungry hiss. 
But that our aarage swains pollute 
With nrarder your retreats ! 
How oft your birds have undeserving bled, 
LioQet, or warbling thrash, or moaoiog dove, 
. Theaiant with gaily-glistering wings. 

Or early-moonting lark ! 
Wh3e in sweet converM in a round you sit 
Ob the green turf, or in the woodbine-bower, 
If cbasce the tfarnKPrrng gun be beard, 
To grots and caves ye run, 
Fearftil as when Lodena aed from Pan, 
Or Dspbne panting from enamoor'd Sol, 
Or fiur Sabrina to tbe flood 
Her snowy beauties gave : 
When will dread man his tyrannies forego. 
When cease to bathe Iii^ barbarous hands in blood, 
His sotjects helpless, harmless, weak, 
Deli^tb^ to destroy ? 
More pkassant far to shield their tender 3roung 
From chnrlisii swains, that violate their nests. 
And, wandering, mom or eve to hear 
Their wdcome to the Spring. 



TO A FOUNTAIN. 

IHITATtD FmOM HOBACB, ODK XIII. BOOK III. 

Ve waves, that gushing fhll with porest stream, 
Bkodostan fount ! to whom the products sweet 

Off ricbest wines belong, 

And fiairest flowers of Spring; 
To thee, a chosen victim will I slay, 
A kid, wbo glowing in lascivious youth 

Just btooins with budding liom, 

And with vain thoegbt elate 
Tctdestmes fature war : but ah ! too soon 
Bs reeking Mood with crimson shall enrich 

Thy pare translucent ilood. 

And tinge thy crystal clear. 
Tky sweet recess the Son in mid-day hom; 
Cn ne'er invade, thy streams the laboured ok 

R«fi«sh with cooling dt aught. 

And glad the wandering herds. 
Tky name shall shme with endless hooomn grae'd. 
While on my ahell I sing the nodding oak. 

That o'er thy cavern deq> 

Waves hn embowering bead. 



ODE TaSVEklNG. 



Hail, meek-ey'd maiden, clad in sober grey. 
Whose soft approach the weary woodman lovea . 
As, homeward bent to kiss bis prattling babes. 
He jocund whistles thro' the twilight groves. 
When Phoebus sinks beneath the gilded hills, 
You lightly o'er the misty meadows walk. 
The drooping daisies bathe In dulcet dews. 
And nurse tbe nodding violet's slender stalk : 
The panting Dryads, that in day's fierce heat. 
To inmost bowers and cooling caverns ran, 
Return to trip in wanton evening dance. 
Old Sylvan too returns, and laughing Pan. 
To the deep wood the clamorous rooks repair, i 
Light skims the ^wallow o'er the wat'ry scene. 
And from the pheep-ootes, and fresh-furrow'd field. 
Stout ploughmen ineet to wrestle on the green. 
The swain that artless s'mgs on jronder rock. 
His nibbling sheep and length'ning shadow spies 
Pleas'd with the cool, the cahn, refreshful hour. 
And with hoarse hummings of unoumber'd flies. 
Now every passion sleeps ; delponding love. 
And pining envy, ever-restless pride ; 
An holy calm creeps o'er my peaceful soul^ 
Anger and mad ambition's storms subside.. 
O modest Evening, oft let me appear 
A wandering votary in thy pensive train, 
List'ning to every wildly-warbling throat 
That fills with farewell notes the dark'ning plain. 



ODE TO CONTENT. 

Welcome Content ! from roofs of fretted gold. 
From Persian sofas, and the gems of Ind, 

From courts, and camps, and crowds. 

Fled to my cottage mean ! 
Meek virgin, wilt thou deign with me to sit 
In pensive pleasure by my glimmering fire. 

And with calm smile despise 

The loud world's distant din ; 
As from the piny mountain's tf>ptnost cliff 
Some wandering hermit sage hears unconcem'd, 

Far in tbe vale brlow. 

The thuod'ring torrent burst ! 
Teach me, good Heaven, the ^tded chains of vice 
To break, U) study independent ease. 

Pride, Pomp, and Power to shun. 

Those fatal syrens fair, 
That, rob'd like Eastern queens, sit on high thrones 
And, beckoning every thirsty traveller. 

Their baleful cups present 

With pleasing poisons fraught 
O let me dwell in life's low valley, blest 
With the dear nymph I love, true, heart-felt joy. 

With chosen friends to turn 

The polish'd' Attic page; 
Nor seldom, if nor fortune damp my wmgs. 
Nor dire disease, to soar to Pindus' hill, 

My hours, my soul devote. 

To poesy and love t 



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DIL WARTOirS POEMB. 



ODX 



TO THE NI^rriNGALB. 

O TBOV, that to the moon-Hght vale 
Waibleet oft thy plaintive Ule, 
What time the village-munnan ceaae. 
And the sdll eye is h«ihM to peMe, 
When now no busy toond it heard, 
Contemplation's bvonrite btid ! 
Chaunttcfls of night, whoae amorous wag 
(First heard the tufted groves among) 
Warns wanton Mabba to begin 
Her revels on the circled green. 
Whene'er by meditation led 
Inightly seek some distant mead, 
A short repose of cares to find. 
And 800th my love-distraetod mind, 
O Ikll not then, sweet Pbtloael j 
Tby sadly-warbled woes to tall i 
In sympathetic numbers join 
Thy pangs of hicfcless love with mine ! 
So may no swun's rude band loiHt 
Thy tender young, and rob thy nert ; 
Nor ruthless fowler's guileful snare 
Lure thee to leave the fields of air, 
Ko more to visK vale or shade, 
go mft baifaaroqs virgin's captive made. 



ODE 

TO A LADV ON THE SPRING. 

Lo ! Spring, array'd in primrose-colour'd robe. 
Fresh beaotim sheds on each enliven'd scene, 
Wkh show'rs and sunshine cheers the smiling globei 
And mantles bill and vale in glowing green. 
All natox« feels her vital heat around. 
The pregnant glebe now hursts with foodfhl grain, 
With kindly warmth she opes the frozen ground, 
And with new life informs the teeming plain. 
She calls the fish from out their ouzy beds. 
And animates th/e deep with genial love. 
She iMds the herds bound sportive o'er the meads, 
And with glad songs awakes the joyous grove. 
No more the glaring tiger roams forprey, 
All-powerful love subdues his savage soul. 
To find his spotted mate he darts away. 
While geiUler thoughts the thirst of blood contronl. 
But ah ! while all is warmth and soft deiire. 
While all around Spring's cheerful spirit own. 
You fleel not, Amoret, her quickening fire. 
To Sprfaig'f kind influence you a foe alone ! 



ODE 
TO A LADY WHO HATEB THE COUNTRY. 

Now Sommer, daughter of tiie Son, 
Cer the ^y fiuelds comes <|aneiog on. 

And earth o'eriows with joys; ' 
Too long in roots and drawing-rooms 
The usteless hours my foir consumes, 

'Ididst folly, flattery, noise. 



Gome, hear mild Zephyr M Iha lew 
Her balmy^bfesAhiag buds disekwa, 

Come, hear the foiling riU, 
Observe; the honey-loaded bee, 
The beec^ embowered cottage sas^ 

Beside yon slepiog hill. 

By health awoke at early mom, 

We'll brush sweet dews tnm every tborB> 

And help unpen the fold ; 
Hence to yon hollow oak we'll stray. 
Where dwelt, as village-febles say. 

An holy Druid old. 

Come, wildly rove thro' desert dales. 
To listen how lone nightingales 

In liquid layp complain ; 
Adian the tender, tbrillhig note 
That panu in Monticelli's tbroai, 
. And Handel's stronger strain. 

" Insipid pleasures these !»* you cry; 
" Must I fVom dear assemblies fly, , 

To see rude peasants toil ? 
For operas listen to a bird ? 
Shall Sydney's fiihles be preferr M i 

To my sagacious Hoy!e« ?" 

Ofolsely fond of what aaemt great. 
Of purple pomp, and robes of states 

And all life's tinsel glaie I 
Rather with humble violets bind. 
Or give to wanton in the wind. 

Your length of sable hair. 

Soon as you reach the rur^l shade. 

Will Mirth, the sprightly roountainFm»d, 

Your days and nights attend. 
She'll bring fontastic Sport and Song, 
Nor Cupid will be abaent kmg. 

Your true ally and friend. 



ODE 

TO SOUTUDE. 

Taotr, that at deep dead of night 

Walk'sl forth beneath tbe pale Moon's light. 

In robe of flowing black array'd. 

While cypress-leaves thy brows o'ershade ; 

List'niog to the crowing cock. 

And the distant sounding clock ; 

Or, sitting jo thy oavem low. 

Dost hear the bleak winds loudly blow. 

Or the lioarse death-boding owl. 

Or village mastiflf's wakeful howl. 

While through thy melancholy room 

A dim lamp castt» an awful gloom ; 

Thou, that on the meadow green 

Or daisy'd upland art not seen» 

But wand'ring bj tha dusky nooki^ 

And the pensive faUiiog hfooks, 

1 Areadta. 

s Allodmgto HmelUiei iTho liave left their 
novels and romancee for the profoood itody of Mr* 



Hoyle'sbookoQ^te 

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STANZAS AFTER A LONG ILLNESS. 



Or neirfonM ragged, beibleii rock, 
Wbert no ilMpberd keeps his flock ! 
Mmng mmid, to tbee I come, 
Uatiog the tradafol cky't kum : 
IfC me calmly dveil with thte, 
Fiooi ooby ■Mrth and hus'oeai firte» 
With meditatioD seek the skies. 
This foUy-fetter*d world dMpise I 



ODE 

TO MR. WEST ON HIS TRANSLATION OP 
PINDAR^ ^ 

L 1. 
Alston omit ! thy sons a voice diTine have beard. 
The man of Thebes bath in thy Tales appeared !, 
Hsrk ! with fresh rage and UDdiminish*d fire 
The fwcct entbnstast smites the British lyre i ; 
The imods that echoed on Alpbeus* streams 
Btsch the delighted ear of listening Thames ; 
Lo ! swift across the doity plain 
Great Tberoa*s foaming coursers strain I 
What mortal tongue e*er roird along 
Sack full impetuous t^ of nervous song ? 

I. 2. 
Tbe fearful, frigid lays of odd and creeping art 
Nor touch, nor can transport th' unfeeling heart; 
Piadar, our inmoat bottm piercing, warms 
With giory 's lora, and eager thiru of arms : 
Wbea Freedom speaks in bis majestic strain, 
Tbe patrinr ynioni beat in every vein : 
We leaf to ait with heroes old, 
>Mkl gro^res of vagetabls gold, 
Wbeiv Cadmus and Achilles dwell, 
Asd Hill of dari^ deeds and dangers telL 

I. 3. 
Aaay, enervate bards, away, 

Who 9pm tbe courtly, silken lay. 
As wreaths for some raia Louis' bead. 
Or mourn some soft Adonis dead : 
No more your polished lyrics, boost, 
la British Puidar's straogtb o'erwhekn'd and lost : 
As well might ye compare 
The gliiDmerings of a waxen flame, 
(Emblem of verM correctly tame) 
To his own JEtna's sulphur-spouting caves, 
Wbea to Heav'u*s vault the fiery deluge raves, 
When clouds and burning rocks dart thro' the 
troubled air. 

11.1. 
h roaring cataracts down And^ channeled steeps 
Htit bow enormous Orellana sweep^ ! 
Monarch of mighty floods ! supremely strong, 
Founing from clIflT to cliff he whirls along, 
Svola with an hundred hills' collected snows : 
TlMooe over nawfflras regioas widely flows, 

1 And with a master's hand, and propbet^s fire, 
Stniek the deep sorrowi of his lyre. 

Ofmy's Bard. 



IS9 



Round fragrant isles, and citron-groves, 
Where still the naked Iddian rove?. 
And safely builds his leafy bow'r. 
From slavery fiw, imd curst Ibenan poit'r | 

|I. 2. 

So rapid Pindar iow8.-.0 parent of tha |y«. 
Let me for ever thy sweet sons admire $ 
O aacient Greece, but chief tbe bard whom Igyv 
The matchless tale of Troy divine emblata; 
And next Euripides, soft Pity's priest, 
Who melts in usefbl woes the bleeding breast | 
And^him, who paints th' incestuous ktag, 
Whose soul amaze and borrour wring i 
Teach me to taste their charms refined. 
The richest banquet of th' enraptur'd mind s 

if. 3. 

For the blest man, the Muse's child. 
On whose auspicious birth she smil'd. 
Whose soul she forro'd of purer flw. 
For whom she tun'd a golden Xyn, 
Seeks not in fighting fields renown : 
No widow's midnight shrieks, nor burning town. 
The peaceful poet please ; 
Nor cMseles^ toils for sordid gahis. 
Nor purple pomp, nor wide domahie. 
Nor heaps of wealth, nor power, nor statemaii% 
schemes, 
Nor all deceived ambition's feverish dreams, 
Lure his contented heart from the sweet vale of ease. 



STANZAS 

ON TAXnrO TUB AIB APm A IQVO ftUOdlt 

Hail genial Sun ? I feel thy powerful ray 
Strike vigorous health into each languid vein ; 
Lo, at thy bright approach, are fled away 
The pale-ey'd sisters. Grief, Disease, and Pali. 

O hills, O forests, and thou pahited mead, 
Again admit me to your secret seats. 
From the dark bed of pining sickness freed. 
With double joy I seek your green retreats. 

Yet once more, O ye rivers, shall I lie 
In summer evenings on your willow'd banks. 
And, unobserved by passing shepherd's eye. 
View tbe light Naiads trip in wanton jranks. 

Each rural object charms, so long nnseen. 
The blooming orchards, the white wand'ring flocVi, 
The fields arrayM in sight-refreshing green. 
And with bis loosen'd yoke the wearied ox. 



Here let me stop beneath this spreading I 
While Zephyr^ voice I hear the boughs among. 
And listen to the sweet thick-warbling thrush. 
Much have I wish'd to hear her vernal song. 

The Dryad Health frequents this hallowed grove; 

O where may I the lovely virgin meet } 

Prom mom to dewy evening will I rove 

To find ber hauuts, and lay an off'riag at her fM. 



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170 



DR. WARTON^ PO£MS. 



VERSES: 



WRl'ltm AT KOVTAOBAN IK FftANCB, 1750. 

Tabn, horn deUgfatftU wind thy wiUoi^d wBvet, 

But ah ! they fractify a laud of tlaTes ' 

In vain thy bare-foot, sim-lmrnt peasants hide 

With InseioiiB grapes yon bill's nxnantic side ; 

No cups nectareuus shall their toil repay, 

Tbo priest's, the soldier's, and the feraiier^ prey : 

Vain glows this Sun, m cloudless glory drest. 

That strikes fresh vigour through the pining breast^ 

Give me, beneath a colder, changeful sky. 

My sours best, only pleasure, Libertyi 

What millions perish'd near thy nioomfol flood ^ 

When the red papal tyrant cry'd out — ** Blood !** 

Less fierce the Saracen, and quivered Moor, 

That dash'd thy ioCints 'gainst the stones of 3rore. 

Be wam'd, ye nations round ; and trembling see 

Dire supenttition quench humanity ! 

By all ^ chiefs in freedom's battles lost. 

By wise and virtuous Alfred's awful ghost; 

By old Galgacus' scythed, iron car. 

That, owiftly whirling through the walks of war, 

Dash'd Roman blood,apd cnish'd the foreign thnngs; 

By holy Druids' courage-breathing songs ; 

By fierce fionduca's shieki and foaming steeds; 

By the bold Peers that met on Thames's meads; 

•By the fifth Henry's helm and lightning spear ; 

O Liberty, my warm petition hear ; 

Be Albion still thy joy ! with her remain. 

Long as the surge shall lash her oak-crowa*d plain ! 



THE DYIKG INDUN. 

The dart of Isdabel prevails ! 'twas dipt 

In double poison — I shall soon arrive 

At the blest island, where no tigers spring 

On heedless hunters ; where ananas bloom 

Thrice in each moon ; where rivers smoothly glide, 

Nor thund'ring torrents whirl the light canoe 

Down to the sea ; where my forefathers feast 

Daily on hearts of Spaniards I — O my son, 

1 feel the venom busy in my breast. 

Approach, and bring my cniwn,deck'd with the teeth 

Of that bold Christian who first dar'd deflow'r 

The virgins of the Sun ; and, dire to tell ! 

Robb'd Phcbacamac's altar of its gems I 

I mark'd the spot where they interr'd th?l traitor. 

And once at midnight stole I to his tomb, 

And tore his carcase from the earth, and left it 

A prey to poiaonoos flies. Preserve this crown ' 

With sacred secrecy : if e'er returns 

Thy much-lov'd mother from the desert woods. 

Where, as I hunted late, I hapless lost her, 

Cherisli her age. Tell her, 1 ne'er have worshipped 

With thofte that eat their God. And when disease 

Preys on her languid limbs, then kindly stab her 

With thine own hands, nor suffer her to linger. 

Like Christian cowards, in a life of pain. 

I go ! great Copac beckons me ! Farewell ! 

1 Alluding to the persecutions of the Protestants, 
and the wars of the Saracens, carried on in tbe south- 
cm province^ qf France. 



REVENGE OF AMERICA. 

Wif tw fierce Piearro's legiom flew 
O'er ravag'd fields of rich P^hi, 
Struck with his Maedhig people's waes^ 
Old India's awful Genius rose. 
He sat on Andes' topmost atone. 
And heard a thousand nations groan ; 
For grief his feathery crown he lore. 
To see huge Plata fbam with g'lre ; 
He broke his arrows, staropt the ground. 
To view his cities smoking round. 

" What woes," he cry'd. " hath lust of gold 
O'er my poor country widely roli'd ; 
Plunderers proceed ! my bowels tear. 
But ye shall meet destruction th«>!rc ; 
From the det^vauited mine shall n's^ 
Th' insatiate fiend, pale Avarice ! 
Whose steps shall trembling Justice fly^ 
Peace, Order, Law, and Amity ! 
I see all Europe's children cur&t 
With lucre's universal thirst : 
The rajje that sweeps my mn% away, 
My baneful gold shall well repay." 



EPISTLE « 



FROM THOMAS HEARNF^ ANTIQUARY, 

TO TAB AVTBOB OF THB COMPANION TO THE 
OXPORi) GUIDE. 

Frirwo of the moss-grown spire and crumbling arch. 
Who wont'st at eve to pace the long lost bounds 
Of lonesome Oseney ! What malignant fiend 
Thy ckiister-loving mhid firom ancient kre 
Hath base aaducM > Urg'd thy apostate pen 
To trench deep woonds on antiqnaries sage. 
And drag the venerable fistbert forth. 
Victims to laughter ! Cruel as the mandate 
Of mitred priesto, who Baskett late enjoin'd 
To throw anide the reverend letters black. 
And print fiut-prayers in modern type ! — At this 
Leland, and Willis, Dugdale, Tanner, Wood «, 
Illustrious names I with Camden, Aubrey, Uoyd, 
Scald their old cheeks with tears ! For once they 

hop'd 
To seal thee ibr their own ! and fondly deem'd 
Hie Muses, at thy call, would crowding come 
To deck Antiquity with flowrets gay. 

But now may curses every search attend 
That seems inviting ! may'st thou pore m vain 
For dubious door-ways ! may revengefVil moths 
TTjy ledgifTS eat ! may chtonologic spouts 
Retain no cypher legible ! may crypts 
Lurk undiscerh'd ! nor may '!(t thou spell the names 
Of saints iiji storied windows ! nor the dates 
Of bells discover I nor the genuine site 
Of abbot's pantries I and may Godstowe veil. 
Deep from thy eyes profane, her Gothic charms. 

1 This poem by mistake has been given to Mr. 7. 
Warton, but its property is claimed under the> 
Doctor's own hand, in a letter to his brother oa 
the publication of the Oxford Sausage. 

* Names of emhaent antiquari^^ 



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SHAKESPEAR'S TWELFTH NISHT . . • TO MR. SEWARD. 



171 



FROM SHAKESPEAR'S TWELFTH 
NIGHT K 

Tut ftran again ! that gtrain replat ! 
iJlH ! it it not now ao sweet ! 
01! it came o'er my HKmnifiil mind, 
like nramori of the aoutbeni wind, 
nat Meal aloiig the Tiolet's bed, 
Aai goBtly heod tba oow^*! head ; 
TWm nitcd to my peofiTe mood, 
Tvas bopele« love's ddidotts ibod. 



ODE 
TO MUSIC 



Qumr of ereix OMrriDg measure, 
Sveetest sooree of purett plcasufe, 
Maae ; «hy thy povera employ 
Only ibr the sow of joy ? 
ObIj for the smilii^ guests 
it natal or at noptial feasts ? 
Ratber thy lenient numbers ponr 
Ob those vhom secret griefs devour ; 
Bid be still the thrubbiag hearts 
Of thoK, whom death, or abfence parts, 
isd, with some softly whisper'd air, 
teooththe brow of dumb despair. 



LINES, 
vtrmnv ixTBarroRa, oy siemo soMa sor.mKas 

AT WICKRAM, WHO WBRI/GOIWO TO VORM A 
RTTLBMEVT WKAa SBMBGAMBIA. 

^na happy omen march, jre valiant ranks; 
Frm Thames to Seoegambi^'s distant banks, 
^^'bere, beneath wanner sods and genial skies, 
May f^itora cities and new empires nse. 



VERSES 

OH sa. imtTOH's death. 

nmc oot ibr me, dear youths I your mournful lays 
la bitter tears. O'er blooming Beauty's grave 
^ Pity wring her hands : I full of yeaia, 
or boomifs full, satiate of life, retire 
^ sa overwearied pilgrim to his home, 
^ St my lot repine. Yet the last prayer, 
Tbat from my struggling bosom parts, shall rise 
Feneaft lor you I May Wickham's much-lov'd 

walls 
le mil with Science, Fame, and Vhrtoe blest, 
iad distaat tim«s and regions hail his namok ^ 

^TUs eaqnisfte morceau m grounded on the 
~iBg of Shakespeai's Twelfth Night : 
If music be the food of tove, play oa,'* &c 



VERSES, 



nOKWS TO THB KI1I0 VT tORII svAmsBtmr. 

FoaetvB th' officious Muse, that, with weak voiea 
And trembiing accents rude, attempts to hail 
Her royal guest 1 who from yon tented fiaM^ 
Britain's defence and boast, has deignM to nnile 
On Wickham's sons ; tho^senUar arts of peaoe 
And science ever prompt to praise, and Mars 
To join with Pallas ! *Tm the Muses* task 
And office best to consecrate to £ame 
Heroes and virtuous kings 3 the generous youths. 
My loVd compeers, hence with redoubled toil 
Shall strive to merit such auspicioos smiles ; 
And through life's varioos walks, in aits or arms. 
Or tunelul numbers, with their country's love 
And with true loyal^ enflam'd, t' adorn « 

This happy realm ; while thy paternal care 
To time remote, and distant Itfnds, shall spread 
Peace, justice, riches, science, freedom, fame. 



TO MR, SEWARD, 

0!l BIS VBiaiS TO LADT TOUNO, 

W« aged bards, rash friend 1 must now forbear 
To wuund with feeble rhymes Amanda's ear ; 
Waller in his fiill force such charms might praise^ 
Or polish'd Petrarch, in his eariiest lays. 
Not with a Tver's or a poet's ^r»— 
In sober silence we can but admire 
Beauty with temper^ taste and sense oombin'd. 
The body only equall'd by the mind. 



ANSWER. By FT. F. Esq, 
TO m. WASTaw. 

Shall Fanc]r's bard of age complain ? 
Oh ! strike the sacred lyre again ; 
For some there are whose pow'rs sublime 
Defy the envious rage of time ; 
And burst bis slender cord, that binds 
In narrow bounds inferior minds. 
With youth reuew'd an hundred years. 
The dauntless eagle perseveres. 
Aims at the Sun his daring flight. 
And drinks untir'd the living light : 
Thus genius glows without decay. 
And basks in beauty's heavenly ray. 
While Barbara claims the v<itive strdin. 
Strike, then— Oh strike the lyi« again^ 
As Grecian dames to her must yield. 
For thee Anacreon quits the field. 
Thus shall Britannia's fame increase; 
In wit and beauty rival Oreeoe. 
Strike ! — strike again the sacred lyre, 
Lo ! Seward joins th' apf^lauding choir. 
Whose dross i contains a richer store 
Than half the worid's best polish*d oiw ; 
My feebler Muse her wing shall fold. 
For ye are young, but I am old. 

■ Alludmg to Mr. Seward's publioatioB under tliK 
title of DrostOana. 



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Google 



ON NOT BEING ABLE TO WRITE 
VERSES Va BELIA. 



Can issue trom a heart so rhm as^ine : 
WH if th* kiifuafB of a mted al eaao, 
True pawioQ M^ too wash with act t9 pl«Me. 
Let rbymiiig trifleiac^^fst* your cgr«|j 
I oaly saze in siknce and ia aii^ 
TeMuMi! will ya deign yoqr wovted aid, 
iUid paint, OvaiB attempt! tty malchleaa maid. 
Ah, no I the stifled groaD, the akartins tear 
Too well deckuw, I am no poeft here. 

«|>M»thua I a«Bf, aod haavy boon b(inil'd» 
Sre wt my Deb* beoi her hetid, and amil'd. 
Kowcarttb^ooa! Ibr soon my UngiDi amn 
Shall eloaely to my bosom strain her charms : 
Haste! tardy timet and let me call hier wife 
I fisel to Um withoQt her ii not lifi^ 



ODE. 

O onrrti, feather-footed Sleep, 
In downy dew» her templea skaep. 
Softly waving o»er bar head 
Thy care-beguiling rod of lead ; 
Let Hymen in her dreamy sf>p€«r 
And mildly whisper in ber ear. 
That constant hearts can never pvoye 
True tramportSy bat in weddetl loTe. 



Annmd the joyous yilUigcs ; O breathe 
Into ber tender breast yonr balmiest^ |^«l } 
O ease her languid head1 tbajt she who feels 
For others pains, may'ne'er lament her own. 



VERSPS 



vhimn OH 



rASSIMO TBaOVGR flACKWOOn PAIK, 

MJ. 1, 1739. 
O MOOilov'dhaaiilsrObeeeh^embQwer'd Tales! 

tonely lawns ! where oft at pensive eve 

1 met in fonner bonra the Muse, and sought 
Far from the buqr world your deepest shades, 
Eeceive my lowly Del A ; to her eye. 

Well skill'd to judge of Nature's variont charms, 
XKsplay your mmost beauties, lead her steps 
To eiich inspiring aveooe, but chief 
O guide her to tiiat airy hiH, where Health 
Sits on the verdant tarfeathran'dj and smiles 



ODE 

OK TAB MATH OP BIS FATBIl. 

No more of mirth «nd nvwl joys. 
The gay description quickly cloys. 
In melting numbers, sadly slow, 
I tune my altered strinjgs to woe ; 
Attend, Melpomene, ao4 with thee bring 
Thy tragic lute, EuphramMr^s death to sing. 
Fond wilt thoqrbe his name to praise, 
•For oft thou heard'st his sldlful lays ; 
Isis for him soft tears has shed. 
She plac'd her ivy on his head ; 
Chose him, strict judge, to rule with steady wm 
The vigorous &ncies of her listening ssraias. 
With genius, wit, and science blest, 
Unshaken honour anoM his breast. 
Bade him, with virtuous courage wise. 
Malignant Fortune*s darts despise ; 
Him,ev'n black Envy's venom'd tongues oofflmea), 
Ai scholar,* pastor, husband, fietther, friend. 

For ever sacred, ever deaf, 
O much-lov*d shade, accept this tear ; 
Each night indulging pious woe. 
Fresh roses nn thy tomb I strew. 
And wish for tender Spenser's mo|'mg verss^ 
Waibled in broken so^ oV Sydney's bane ; 
Let me to that deep cave resort. 
Where Sorrow ke^ h^ sU«ot CQU|ty 
Fpr eve^ wriiM»inS ^ P^® hands, 
While duiph Miavt^ne near her i^a^ 
Witii downcast eyes the Gsres around her wait. 
And Pi^ sobhfaig sits before the gate. 
Thus stretched npon his grave I sung. 
When straight my ears with rouimttr rtm^ 
A distant, deaf; and holtow sound 
Was heard m solemn whispers round— 
"Enough, dear youth 1 tho* wrapt in bliss shore, 
Well pleas'd I listen to thy lays of love." 



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THE 

POEMS 



OF 



THOMAS BLACKLOCK, D.D, 



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I 



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THE 



LIFE OF BLACKLOCK, 



BY MR. CHALMERS. 



1 HIS verj extnoniinary poet was bom in the year 17^1> at Annan in the coonty of 
Duiufiies, in Scotland. His parents were natives of Cumberland, of the lower order, 
but iijdiistrious and well informed. Before he was six months old he lost his sight by 
(be ^malUpox, and therefore as to all purposes of memory or imagination, may be 
&aid never to have enjoyed that blessing. His father and friends endeavoured to lessen 
the calamity by reading those bookii which might convey the instruction suitable to 
iaf40cy, and as he advanced, they proceeded to othen which he appeared to relbh and 
remember^ particularly the works of Spenser, Milton, Prior, Pope, and Addison. And 
such ii-as the kindness which his helpless situation and gentle temper excited, that he 
was seldom without some companion who carried on this singular course of education* 
until be bad even acquired some knowledge of the Latui tongue. It is probable that 
be rememl>ered much of all tliat was read to him^ but his mind began very early to 
make a choice. He first discovered a predilection for English poetry, and then at 
the age of twelve endeavoured to imitate it in various attempts, one of which is 
preserved in the present collection, but rather with a view to mark the commencement 
tiian the perfection of his talent. 

In this Diunner his life appears to have past for the first nineteen years of his life, 
at the end of which lie had the misfortune to lose hb father, who was killed by the 
accidental fall of a malt-kihi. For about a year after this, he continued to live at 
borne, and began to be noticed as a young man of genius and acquirements such as 
were not to be expected in one in his situation. Hb poems, which had increased in 
number as he grew up, were now handed about in manuscript, with confidence that 
they were worthy of the attention of the discerning, and some of them having been 
shown to Dr. Stevenson, an eminent physician of Edinburgh, he formed the benevolent 
design of removing the author to that city, where his genius might be improved by a 
regular education. He came accordingly to Edinburgh in the year 1741, and conti- 
nued his studies in the university, under hb kind patron, till the year 1745, and in 
1746 a volume of hb poems, in octavo, was publbhed, but with what effect we are 
■ot told. The rebellion^ however, which then raged in Scotland, dbturbed arts and 

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176 . LIFE OF BLACKLOCK. 

learaiog, and our author returned to Dumfries, where he found an asylum m tb^ 
house of Mr. M'Murdo^ who had married his sister, and who by company and con- 
TersatioUy endeavoured to amuse his solitude, and keep up his stock of learning. At 
the close of the rebeliion, he returned to Edinburgh, and pursued his studies for sii 
jfears longer. 

He now obtained the acquaintance of Hume, the celebrated historian, who interested 
himself with great zeal in his behalf, and among other services, promoted the 
publication of the quarto edition of his poems in 1756, hut previously to this a second 
edition of the octavo had been published at Edinburgh in 1 754. In this last mentioiw 
ed year, he became known to the rev. Joseph Spence, poetry professor of Oxford, 
who introduced him to the English jiuhlic, by An Account of the life. Character 
and Poems of Mr. Blacklock, student of Philosophy m the University of Edinbuigfa. 
In this pamphlet Mr. Spence detailed the extraordinary drciimstances of his education 
and genius with equal taste and 'humaalty, mid n subscription was immediately opened 
at Dodsley's shop for a quarto edition to be published at a gumea the large, and half 
a guinea the small paper. 

•Havkigi«eomplefeed his edooatioB at the tmivtnity, he began a ooune of study, 
viMiA view to ghre ItcUHes on oiatoiy to young guMetam mteoded for the hm or 
4he ptelpSi, bat by Uame's advice he iksisted fnou a pn^ett which 4he latter 
thoi^t unlikely to succeed, and detenniiied to study ^MaHy, which promised to 
^imrify and ^iduage tbe pious ledit^ naA sentimats ihat had grown up with km. 
.AceordiBglyi afWrtiK usual (pfobatkmafy course, be was licensed a freolcher of the 
igos|»d,«gitteblyto the tides of Ihe dtethof Soolhmd,nth^ lathb 

character be attauned ctfisideiable cepmation, and was food of composing aemoas, of 
which be baskftsome volumes in tmaiMBeript, m also a treatise of norals^ both of 
wbicblHs friends KiDce intended »fbr tfaepMss. tFwo occasmal aermons «re said to 
have beeh ipubliiied in 'bbfiffe-tint, b«t jptnimkky never toadied Ibis country, as no 
tiolieeof them recurs •inomr liteiiiiy joumals. 

iiis oocupatiORs and*disposilk>n«t this period of bis ilfe avertbus related by4he ret. 
Mr.Jimieaon, ofNMroaitk,who1mewliimtetlmately. ^ 

<« iiii'manDer 'Oflfe,'''iays itfaatgcothanan, '< was^iroifotm, thatlbe history of it 
during one day, or one week, is the history of it during the seven years that oar 
.{lersittal idlircottne kst^d. 'fteadn^ tnusto, «wsdUng, •conversfaig, and dispiftbg 
)Cla vilrkMSlopies, iahhedogjF^ ethiai,&c. OMployed afaiost'every hourof ^nir time. It 
wnqileasaiit to bear hiin engaged 4n aHlispttte, ferno man conMkisep'his temper better 
itfaan be w^mcfs did <m sneb 'ooeasiMis. I bave known him fi«qtiently very wamfly 
' engaged "far. bo«n together, but 'never ^oidd observe one attgry wotd'to >fali from bun. 
Whatever bit antagonist wigfattay, be alMys 'kept bistempior. *' Semper-paratus et 
tvfUkre sfaie pertaiiMia,'et veMti 'sme imciindia.'' >He Was, however, 'extremely 
'OetHlble'to f^hatbe'the^igbt ill'U8age,'atad'equally so'wfaetber it legariied himself or 
4iir finemlB. (B«it bbti«stnttMiit >was Ulways aw^aed <to a'few sitirieai veraes, wfaiefa 
^Kfett genenUly btimt'soon after."* 

^ The bte Mr. tBp«snee<(tbe «dil9r*4^f 'tiie quttito edition <i( bis poem^ freqnchifly 
"ittgeA ttm toivrite a tragelly ; ahd assured 'him tiuit he ifaad interest enough with 
^lir.^Qankk^o get it tt^tMl. Vi^ioils^aubjecls werrproposed to Mm, several df wbidi 



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LIFE OP BLACKLOCK. 177 

k approved of, yet be nerer could be prevailed on to begin any thing of that 
Uui *. It may seem remarkable* but as far as I know, it was invariably the case» 
that he never could think or write on any subject proposed to him by another. 

« I have frequently admire<l with what readiness and rapidity he could sometimes 
onke verses. I have known him dictate from thirty to forty verses, and by no means 
bad ones, as fast as I could write them ; but the moment he was at a loss fer a riiyme 
or a verse to his liking, he stopt altogether, and could very seldom h6 induced to finish 
what be had begun with so much ardour." 

To this his elegant biographer adds, ** All those who ever acted as his amanuenses, 
agree in this rapidity and ardour of composition which Mr. Jameson ascribes to him 
k the account I have copied above. He never could dictate till he stood up ; and 
u bis blindness made walking about without assistance inconvenient or dangerous to 
bin, be fell insensibly into a vibratory sort of motion of bb body, which increased 
as he warmed with his subject* and was pleased with the conceptions of his mind. 
Tliis motioo at last became habitual to him, and though he could sometimes restrain it 
I on ceremony, or in any public appearance, such a^ preaching, he felt a certain 
(from the efibrt, and always returned to it when he could indulge it without 
impropriety.^ 

Is 1762, he married Miss Sarah Johnston, daughter of Mr. Joseph Johnston, sur- 
gaoQ ID Dumfries, a connexion \vhich formed the great solace of his future life 
Aboot the same time he was ordained minister of the town and parish of Kircudbright, 
m cooaequeace of a presentation from the crown, obtained for him by the earl of 
ScUdrk; but the parishioners having objected to the appointment, after a legal dispute 
of nearly two years, his friends advised him to resign his right, and accept of a 
modeiate annuity in its stead. If their principal objection was to his want of sight, 
it was certaioly not unreasonable. He would probably in the course of a few years 
Inve found it very inconvenient, if not painful, to execute all the duties of the pastoral 

With the slender provision allowed by this parish he returned to Edinburgh m 1754, 
lad adopted the plan of receiving a limited number of young gentlemen into his 
bouse, not only as boarders, but as pupils whose studies he might occasionally assist 
And this plan succeeded so well that he continued it till tlie year 1787> when age and 
iafinBity obliged him to retire from active life. 

In 1767, the degree of doctor of divinity was couferred upon him by the University 
and Marischal College of Aberdeen, doubtless at the suggestion of his friend and 
ironespoDdcot Dr. Beattie, to whom he had in the preceding year sent a present of 
bis worka» accompanied by some verses. Dr. Beattie returned a poetical epistle, 
which is now prefixed to Blacklock's poems, and ever aAer maintained a corres- 
pondence with him, and consulted him upon all his subsequent works, particularly 
his oekbiated Essay on Truth. 

1 Mr. Jmmeacn was probably igoorast of the circumstance of his writing, at a subsequent period, a 
Infvdy ; bwi upon what rabject, hit illation, from whom I received the intelligence, cannot recollect. 
Tht maouacript was put into the hands of the late Mr. Croebie, then an emment advocate at the bar of 
iQQtland, Imt has ntver iiaoe beea recovered. Mackenzie. 

Vo». XVIIL N 

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r?S LIFE OF BLACKLOpk. 

In tim samt year he published, Paraclcas: or Consolations deduced from Nalunil 
.and Revealed Religion: in two Dissertations ; Ihe first supposed to have been com- 
posed by Cicero". now rendered into English: the last originally written by Dr. 
Blacklock. The plan of the original dissertation is to prove the siiperiority of the 
consolations to be derived from the Christian revelation, but it is painful to fiftd bjr 
bis preface that his niotive for writing it, was " to alleviate the pressure of repeated 
disappointraents, to soothe his anguish for the loss of departed friends, to elude the 
rage of implacable and unprovoked enemies, in a word, to support his own mind, 
which, for a number of years, besides its literary difficulties, and its natural disad- 
vantages, had maintained an incessant conflict with fortune." Of what nature fall 
disappointments were, or who could be implacable enemies to such a man, we are not 
told. His biogmpher, indeed, informs us, that he ** had from nature a constitation 
delicate and nervous, and his mind, as is almost always the case, was in a great degree 
subject to the indisposition of his body. He frequently complained of a lowness and 
depression of spirits, which neither the attention of his friends, nor the unceasing care 
of a most affectionate wife, were able entirely to remove,'^ Let us hope, therefor^, 
for the honour of mankind, that his complaints were those, not of a man who had 
enemies, but of one who was sensible that, with strong powers of mind, and well- 
founded consolations, he was yet excluded from many of the rational delights of which 
lie heard others speak, and of which, if he formed any idea, it was probably diqirc^ 
portioned and distressing. 

In 1768, he published a translation, fVom the Fi-ench of the rev. James Armando 
minister of the Walloon church in Hanau, of two discourses on the spirit and eTidence 
of Christianity, with a long dedication from his own pen, calculated for the perusal 
of the clergy of the church of Scotland. In this, as in al^ his prose writings, hb 
style b elegant, nervous, and animated, and his sentiments such as indicate th^ purest 
zeal for the interests of religion. His last publication, in 177 ^t was the Graham, an 
Heroic Ballad ; in four Cantos : intended to promote harmony l>etween the infaabitaoCs 
of Scotland and England. As a poem however, it acided little to his reputation, and 
has been excluded from the collection fonned by Mr. Mackenzie, which b here adopted. 

In 1791 9 he was seized with a feverish disorder, which at first seemed of a slight, 
and never rose to a very violent kkid r but his weak frame was unable to support it, 
and he died after about a week's illness, July 7, 1791i>n the seventieth year of bis age. 
A monument was afterwards erected to bis memory, with an elegant Ijitiu inscription 
from the pen of Dr. Beattie. 

Such are the few events of Dr. BlaoklockV Ufe. His character, and the character 
of his writings, are more interesting, and will probably ever continue to be the snbjiecrt 
of contemplation with all who study the human mind, or fevere the di^iensations of 
Providence. Uis perseverance in acquiring so extensive a fund of learning, amidst 
those privations which seem to bar all access to improvement, » an extraordiiiary 
feature in his character, and notwithstanding the kind zeal of the friends who endea- ' 
Toured to make up for his want of sight by reading to him, many of his attainmenli 
must ever remain inexplicable. 

With respect to his personal character, hk biographer, and indeed all who knew 
him, have expatiated on the gentleness of his manners, the benignity of his diqK)cit]oa 

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LIFE OF BLACKLOCK. 179^ 

and that warm laterest in the happiness of others which led him so constantly, to. 
promote it in the young people who were committed to his charge. In their society h& 
appeared entirely to forget the loss of sight, and the melancholy which, at other times, 
it might produce. *' He entered," says his biographer, " with the cheerful playfulness 
of a young man, into all the sprightly narrative, the sportive fancy, the humorous jest 
that rose around him. It was a sight highly gratifying to philanthropy, to see hpw 
much a mind endowed with knowledge, kindled by genius, and above all lighted up 
with innocence and piety, like Blacklock's, could overcome the weight of its own 
cakmity, and enjoy the content, the happiness, and the gaiety of others. Several of 
tboie inqiates of Dr. Blacklock's house retained, in future life, all the warmth of that 
impression which his friendship at this early period had made upon them; and in 
various quarten of the world, he had friends and correspondents from whom no 
length of time or dbtance of place had ever estranged him. 

^ Music, which to the feelmg and the pensive, in whatever situation, is a source of 
extreme delight, but which to the blind must be creative, as it were, of idea and of 
sentiment, he enjoyed highly, and was himself a tolerable performer on several 
instruments, particularly on the flute. He generally carried in his pocket a small 
flageolet ^ on which he played his favourite tunes ; and was not displeased when 
asked in company to play or to sing them ; a natural feeling for a blind man, who 
tfaus adds a scene to the drama of his society." 

With regard to his poetry, there seems no occasion to involve ourselves in the 
perplexities which Mn Spence first created, and then injudiciously as well as 
ineffectually endeavoured to explain. The character of hb poetry is that of sentiment 
and reason : his versification is in general elegant and harmonious, and his thoughts 
MKoetimes flow with an ardent rapidity that betokens real genius. But it is impossible 
to ascribe powers of description to one who had seen nothing to describe ; nor of 
inrention to one who had no materials upon which he could operate. Where we 
find any passages that approach to the description of visible objects, we must surely 
attribute them to memory. As he had the best English poets frequently read to him, 
be attauied a free command of the language of poetry, both m simple and compound 
wonls» and we know that all poets consider these as common property. It is not 
therefore wonderful that he speaks so often of mountains, vallies, rivers, nor that he 
appropriates to visible objects their peculiar characteristics, all which he must have 
beard repeated until they became fised in hb memory : but as no man pursues long 
vbat aflbrds little more than the exercbe of conjecture, we are still perplexed to 
discover what pleasure Mr. Blacklock could take, first in a species of reading wliicl^ 
coukl give him no ideas, and then in a species of writing in which he could coj>y only 
tbe expressions of others. There are few of his poems in which some passage does 
not occur which tempts us to ask, what idea could he affix to this? VVIicu he speaks 
af « insect crowds that 'scape the nicest eye," how could he judge of crowds or ijasects 

* " Hk fint idea of leanimg to play on this instrument h^ used to ascribe to a circumstauce rather 
BDCominoo, bat which, to a mind like bit, susceptible at the same time and creative, might naturally 
caoQgh arise, namely, a Dream, in which he thought he met with a shepherd's boy on the side of a 
ysstoral hill, who brousbt tJie mostexquisiu music from that little instrument." Mackenzie. 

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r«0 LIFE OP BLACKLOCK. 

tbal had no eyes T •« Starry skies" be might have borrowed, but what tram of thooght 
led himtosay ofbighty 

Clomh peep on cloiidf , and, as they rtae^ 
Coodtnse to solid gloom the skies. 

" Pale fear/ " pale lerrour," " wirite robed innocence/ '• iron sway/ " livid pban- 
tonis/ " rosy bowl/ <« angel form/ and many others, he had often heard, but the 
Xollowing images^ if borrowed in parts, are certainly combmed with the hand oft 
niaster^ 

Am swift deioendhi; sbow^rs of rain, 

Dafbrm with mud the clearest streamsi 
As rising mists Hear'n^s azure stain, 
Tlog'd with Anrora*s blush in vain ; 

As fades the flow'rs in mid-day beams* 
On fife thus tender sorrrows prey. 
And wrap in gloom its promised day.— 

Thro' tears behold a sister's eyes 
Emit a fhded ray.''-^ 

Say, could no song of melting woe. 
Revoke the keen determined blow. 

That elos'd his sparkfing eye ? 
Thus roses oft, by early doom, 
RobbM of their blush and sweet perfume. 

Grow pale, recline, and die* 

iviiat idea onr author had of these appearances, and what kind or d^ree of 
pleasure they afforded him, it is. impossible to discover. He has himsdf written 
a very long article On Blindness m the Encyclopedia Britamifea, but it aflbrds no 
light to the preseut subject, containing chiefly reflections on the disadvantages of 
4)lindness, 'and the best means of alleviating them. Hb poems, however, eq)edally 
where attempts are made at description, indicate powers which seem to have 
wanted the aid of sight only to bring them \iAo the highest rank. We know that 
poetical genius b almost wholly independent of fearoing, and seems often planted in 
a soil where nothing else will floimsh, but Blacklock's b altogether an extraor- 
dinary case: we have not even terms by Which we can intelligibly dbcoss hb 
merits, and we may conclude with Denina in hb Ditorso dilU Uteratura, that 
** Blacklock will appear to posterity a fable, as to us he b a prodigy. It will be thought 
a fiction, a paradox, that a man blmd from hb mfirtiey, besides having made himself 
so much a master of various foreign langtiages, should be a great poet & hb own ; and 
without having hardly ever seen the lights shduld be so remarkably happy in 
description.'' 



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COMMENDATORY VERSEa 



MIL THOMAS BLACKLOCK. 

TD fiiBW aod to tbe Mase unki^own 
>^'here arts mnd idence n^yer sbone, 

A hamlet * stands secsre : 
Her nutic sons, to toil inur*d, 
Bjr blooming health and gaio allur'd, 

Tbetr grateful soH manure. 
What means my heart ! — •Tis Nature's pow'r : 
Yes, here I date my natal hoar, 

My barsting heart would say : 
Here &iet*p the swains from whom I sprung, 
Whose conscience fell remorse ne'er stung ; 

For Nature led their way. 
Simplicity, unstaia'd with crimes, 
(A gem bow rare in modem times ; ) 

Was all from them I bore : 
No sounding titles swelPd my pride ; 
My heart to mis*ry ne*er was ty*d. 

By heaps of shhiing ore. 

Heedless of wealth, of pow'r, of fame; 
Heedless of each ambitious aim. 

Here flowed my boyish years. 
How oft these plains Pve thoughtless prest ; 
Whistled, or sung sopie fair ^ distrest. 

Whose late would steal my tears 1 
Titus nide, unpulish*d, unrefinM ; 
While, plung'd in darkest night, my naind 

Uncultivated lay ; 
With pity mov'd, my fate yon view'd ; 
Uy way to li^bt, to reason »ihew*d. 

And opM the source of day : 
Ton kns'd and fbrm*d my infiint thought ; 
Yoar skill, your matchless goodness taught, 

Where truth and bliss to find ; 
Pamted, by thee, in all her charms. 
Each gen*rous heart fair Virtue warms. 

And swells the ravish'd mind. 
Hail bright celestial, all divine ! 
O coroe ! iuspire this breast of mine 

With all thy heavenly pow'r : 
Lead, lead me to thy happiness ; 
Mnt out thy path to that blest place. 

Where gnef shall be no more. 

RicHAKD Hewitt \ 

> Rockliile, a little country Tillage near Carlisle, 
io the county of Cumberland: 

^ Alluding to a sort of narrative songs, which 
make no inconsiderable part of the innocent amuse- 
ments with which the country people pass the winter 
nights, and of which the author of the present piece 
was a fiuthful rehearser. 

^ This little poem can boast a quality which com- 



ply EPISTLE FROM DR. BEATTIE. 



Rev. Ma. THOMAS BLACKLOCK «. 

Monstro quod ipse tibi posiis dare ; semita certe 
Tranquilla; per vinutem patet unica viie. 

Juvenal, Sat. x. 

Hail to the poet ! whose spontaneous lays 
No pride restrains, nor venal flattery sways. 
Who, nor from critics, nor from fashion's lawi. 
Learns to adjust bis tribute of applause ; 
But bold to feel, and ardent to impart 
What Nature whispers to the generons heart, 
Propitious to 4h* moral song, commends, 
For Virtue's &«&Q; the humblest of her frienda. 

Peace to the grumblers of an envious age. 
Vapid in spleen, or briiik in frothy rage ! 
Critics, who, ere they understand, defame ; 
And friends demure, who only do not blame ; 
And puppet -prattlers, whose unconscious throat 
Transmits what the pert witling prompts by rote : 
Pleas'd, to their spite or scorn I yield the lays 
That boast the sanction of a Blacklock's praise. 
Let others court the blind and babbling crowd : 
Mine be the favour of the wise and good. 

O thou, to censure, as to guile unknown ! 
Indulgent to all merit but thy own ! [frame. 

Whose soul, though darkness wrap thine earthly 
C)xults in virtue's pure ethereal flame ; 
Whose thoughts, congenial with the strains on high. 
The Muse adorns, but cannot dignify ; 
As northern lights, in glittering legions driven. 
Embellish, not exalt, the starry Heaven : 
Say thou, for well thou know'st the art divine 
To guide the fancy, and the soul refine, 

mendatory verses are not supposed always to possess, 
to wit, perfect sincerity and gratitude in the author. 
Ke was a p<K)r native of a village in the neighbuur- 
hood of Carlisle, whom Mr. Backlock had taken to 
lead him, and whom, finding him of promising 
parts, and o^ a dispo<;ition to leani, he endeavoured 
to make a scholar. He succeeded so well as to tearh 
young Hewitt the Latin, Greek, and French lan- 
guajres, and some knowledge in the sciences. The 
lad bore his ma»iter that warm affection which his 
kindness seldom failed to procure from hi«» dom**s- 
tics, and left him, with unwillingness, to enter the 
service of lord Miliun, (then lord justice clerk, 
and sous-ministre for Scotland untler Arrhbuld 
duke of Argylc), whose secretary he became. The 
fatigue of that station hurt his health, and ho died 
in 1764. 
* Vide Dr. Beattie's Poems, edition 1766, p. 135. 



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COMMENDATORY VERSES. 



What beighU of excellence mmt he ascead. 
Who longs to claim a Blacklock for his friend ; 
Who longs to enfulate thy tuneful art ; 
But more thy meek simplicity of heart ; 
But more thy virti^ patient, undismoy *d. 
At once though malice and mischance intade ;' 
And, nor by leamM nor priestly pride confin'd, 
"^y zeal for truth* and love of human kind. 
Like thee» with sweet inefiable contront. 

Teach me to rouse or sooth th'impassionM soul, 

And breathe the luxury of social woes ; 

Ah ! ill-exchang'd for all that mirth bestows. 

Ye sisvea'of mirtb* renounce your boasted plan. 

For know, 'tis sympathy exalts the man. 

But, midst the festive bower, or echoing hall. 

Can Riot listen to soft Pity's call ? 

Rude be repels the sool-ennobling guest, 

And yields to sel6sh joy his hardened breast 
Teach me thine artless harmony of song, 

6ireet« •» the vernal waiblmgs borne along 



Arcadians myrtle groves ; ere Art began. 
With critic glanoo maldvolentt to scan 
Bold Nature's generous charms, display'd profose 
In each warm cheek, and each «nraptur'd Muse. 
Then had not Fraud imposed, hi Fashion's name, 
For freedom lifeless' form, aiul pride for shame ; 
And, for th' o' erflowings of a heart sincere. 
The feature fix'd, untamish'd with a tear ; 
The cautious, slow, and unenliven'd eye. 
And breast inured to check the tender sigh. 
Then love, unblam*d, indulg'd the guiltless smile; 
Deceit they fear'd not, for they knew not guile. 
The social sense unaw'd, that scom'd to own 
The curb of law, save Nature's law alone. 
To godlike aims, and godlike actions fir*d ; 
And the full energy of thought inspir*d ; 
And the foil dignity of pleasure, given 
V exalt desire, and yield a tafte of Heaven. 



^ 



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POEMS 



OF 



DR. THOMAS BLACKLOCK. 



HORACE, ODE L imitated. 

IMCRIBID TO 

De. JOHN STEVENSON, 
Physician in Edinburglu 

0THO(7, whose goodness unconfio'd 
EKtends its wish to bttroaa kind ; . 
By nbose redolgeoce I aspire 
To rtrike the sweet Horatian lyre ; 

Tliere are who, on th' Olympic plain, 
I>efi^ the chariot^s speed to rein ; 
lamlv'd io glorious dust to rot! ; 
To torn with gloiwiug wheel the goal ; 
Who by repeated trophies rise. 
Aid dttre with gods their pomp and skies. 
TUi mill, if chaogeful crowds admire, 
Fanented er*n to mad desire, 
Thar fool or villain to elate 
To all the honours of the state ; 
Tbat, if his granary secures 
Wkite'er th' autumnal san matures, 
Vieas'd his paternal field to plow^ 
Itante firoai each ambitious view, 
Vait India's wealth would bribe in rain, 
T» lanch the bark, and cut the main.' 

The merchant, while the western breeze 
Fennents to rage th* Icarian seas, 
Crg*d by th' impending hand of fkte, 
wain to Heav*n his country-seat ; 
Its fwect retirement, fearless ease, ' 

The fiefcls, the air, the streams, the trees; 
Tetliu the shatter'd bark again, 
Bcftlv'd io brave the tumid main, 
8aolT*d all hazards to endure, 
Mir shna a plague, but, to be poor. 

Otte with the free, the gen*rous bowl, 
Aknchi his caret, and warms his soul: 
Kow wrapt m ease, supinely laid 
Bvieath the myrtle's am'rous shade ; 
Kov where some sacred fountain flows, 
V^Voie cadence 00ft toTites repose ; 



'V^liile half the sultry summer's day 
On silent pinions steals away. 

Some busums boast a nobler flamei. 
In fields of death to toil for feme, 
In war's grim front to tempt their fate ; 
Curst war ! which brides and mothers bate : 
As in each kindling hero's sight 
Already glows the promised fight ; 
Their hearts with more than transport bound. 
While drums and trumpets mix their sound. 

Unmindful of his tender wif^, 
And cv'ry home-felt bliss of fife. 
The huntsman, in th' unshelter'd plains, 
Ueav'n's whole inclemency sustains ; 
Now scales the steepy mountain's skle. 
Now tempte the torrent's headlong tide ; 
Whether his faithful bounds in view. 
With speed some timid prey pursue ; 
Or some fell monster of the wood 
At once his hopes and snares elude. ^ 

Good to bestow, like Heay'n, is thine. 
Concurring in one great desigp ; 
To cool the fever's burning rage. 
To knit the feeble nerves of age ; 
To bid young health, with pleasure crown'd. 
In rosy lustre smile around. 

My humbler function shall I name ; 
My sole delight, my highest aim } 
Inspir'd thro' bucezy shades to stray. 
Where choral nymphs and graces play ; 
Above th' unthinking herd to soar. 
Who sink forgot, and are no more ; 
To snatch from fate an honest fame. 
Is all I hope, and all I claim. 
If to my V4IWS Euterpe deign 
The Doric reed's mellifiuent strain. 
Nor Polyhymnia, darling Muse ! 
To tune the Lesbian harp refuse. 
But, if you rank me with the choir, 
Wh^touch, with happy hand, the lyre ; 
Ekulting to the starry firame, 
Sustain'd by all the wings of finne, 
With boys adom'd I then shall soar. 
Obscure, depressed, and soom'd no more 



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184 



BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



While Envy, vainly merit's foe, 
With sable wings shall flag below ; 
And, doom'd to breathe a grosser air. 
To reach my glorious height de^r. 



PSALM I, iMn-ATin. 

How blest the man, bow more than blest f 

Whose heart no guilty thoughts employ ; 
God*s endless sunshine fills his breast. 

And smilmg conscience whispers peace and joy. 
Fair Rectitude^s unerring way 

His heav*n-conducted steps pilrsue ; 
While croiprds in guilt and errour stray, 

Unstaio'd bis soal, and vndec«iT*d bis view. 
While, with anmeaafng laughter gay. 

Scorn, on her throne erected high. 
Emits a &lse delusive ray. 

To catch th^, astbnisb'd gaze of Fblly's eye ; 
Deep in herself his soul retired, 

Unmov'd, beholds the meteor blaze. 
And, with all-perfect beauty fir'd, 

Nature, and Nature's God, intent surveys. 
Him from high Heav'n, her native teat. 

Eternal Wisdom's self inspires ; 
While he, with purpose flx*d as fiite. 

Pursues her dictates, and ber charms admires. 
In sunshine mild« and temp'rate air. 

Where some refreshing fountain flows. 
So nurs'd by Nature's tend'rest care, 

A lofty tree with autumn's treasure glows. 
Around its boughs the summer gale 

With pleasure waves the genial wing; 
There no unfriciKlly colds prevail, 
' To chill the vigour of its endless spring. 
Amid its hospitable sbade 

Heav'n's sweetest warblers tune tbe lay ; 
Nor shall its honours ever fade. 

Nor immatuieju plenteous fruit decay. 
By God's almighty arm susfatn'd, 

Thus Virtue soon or late shall rise ; . 
£iyoy her conquest, nobly gain'd. 

And share imnoortal triumph in the skies. ' 

3ut fools, to sacred wisdom blind. 

Who Vice's tempting call obey, 
A different fate shall quickly find. 

To every roaring storm an easy prey. 
Thus when the warring winds arise. 

With all their lawless fury driv'to, 
light diaff or dust incesMnt flies, 

Whiri'd in swift eddies thro' the vault of Heav'n 
When in tremendons pomp array*d, 

Descending from the op*ningsky. 
With ftiU omnipotence displayed, 

Here God shall call on Nature to reply • 
Then Vice, with shame and grief depress*d, 

Transfix'd with borrour and despair. 
Shall feel Hell kindling in ber breast. 

Nor to her Jndge prefer her trembling pray'r : 
for, with a fether's fond regard. 

To blis the views fair Virtue tend ; 
While Vice obuins her just rewaid. 

And all her paths in jeop perdition end. 



AN HYMN TO THE SUPREME BEINQ. 

IN IMITATIOH or TRB CIVTH PSALM. 

Quid prius dicam sotitts parentis 
Laudibus ? qm res hominum ac deomm. 
Qui mam et terras, variisque mundom 

Temper*t horis > Hokaci. 

Abiss, my soml ! on wings seraphic rise. 
And praise th' almighty Sovereign of the rinet ; 
In whom alone essential glory shines. 
Which not tho Heav'n of Heav'ns, nor boiiiidle« 
space confines. 
When darkness ml'd with universal sway, 
sHc spoke, and kindled up tbe blaze of day ; 
First, ftiirest oi&pring of tbe omnific woid ! 
Which, like a garment, cloth'd itsspVreign Lord. 
On Tiquid air he bade the colamns riae. 
That prop the sUrry concave of the skies; 
Diflns'd the blue expanse from pole to pole. 
And spread circumflnent ether round the wbole. 

Soon as he bids impetuous tempests fly. 
To wing his sounding chariot thro* tbe sky ; 
Impetuous tempests the command obey. 
Sustain bis flight, and sweep th' aerial way. 
Fraught with bis mandates, from the resklottoo bight 
Unnumber'd hosts of radiant heralds fly. 
From orb to orb, with ptogi ea s unconfin'd. 
As lightning swift, resistless as the wmd. 

In ambient airthb pond'rous ball be bmag. 
And bade its centre rest for ever strong $ 
Heav'n, air, and sea, with all then* storms, in vaia 
Assault tbe basis of the firm machine. 

At thy Almighty voice old Ocean raves. 
Wakes all his force, and gathers all bb wavek ; 
Nature lies mantled in a wat*ry robe. 
And shoreless billows revel round the globe ; 
O'er highest hills the higher surges rise. 
Mix with the clouds, and meet the fluid skks. 
But when in thunder the rebuke wasgtv'n. 
That shook th' eternal firmament of Heav'n ; 
The grand rebuke th' aflfrighted waves obey. 
And in confusion scour their uncouth way ; 
And posting rapid to tbe place decreed. 
Wind down the hills, and sweep the bunible itiead. 
Reluctant in their bounds the waves subside ; 
Tlie bounds, impervious to the lashing tide. 
Restrain its rage ; whilst, with incessant roar. 
It shakes the caverns, and assaults the shore. 

By him, from mountaius cloth'd in lucid snow. 
Through fertile vales the mazy rivers flow. ' 

Here the wild horse, unconscious of tbe rein. 
That revels boundless o'er the wide campaign. 
Imbibes the silver surge, with heat opprett. 
To cool the fever of his glowing breasL 

Here rising boughs, adom*d with summer's prida, 
Project their waving umbrage o*er the tide ; 
While, gently perching on the leafy spray. 
Each fefither'd warbler tunes his various lay : 
Apd, while thy praise they symphou'ze around. 
Creation echoes to the grateful sound. 
Wide o*er the Ueav'ns the various bow he bendi, 
It« tinctures brightens, and its arch extends : 
At the glad sign the airy conduits flow, 
Soften the hills, and cheer the meads below : 
By genial fervour and prolific rain. 
Swift vegetation clothes the smiling plain : 
Nature, profusely good, with bliss overflows. 
And still is pregnant, tho' the still bestows. 



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A PSALM. 



185 



Hot vddaot pcstorM wide extended lie. 
And jriild the gracmfr tord cx abe wDt toppTy. 
Unrariaot wtmog in the waotoa air, 
Here froklni grain rewuds the peasant's care : 
Here noes matore with fresh camaticm jiow. 
And HeaVo ahote diffuses HeaT*n below. 
Erect and tall here Boontani cedars rise, 
Wave in the starry rault, and emulate the skies, 

Here the winged crowd, that skim the 3rieldingair, 
With artful toH their little domes prepare ; 
Here hatch their leader young, and nurse their 



Vp the tteep hill ascends the nimble doe, 
White timid conies scour the plains below. 
Or in the pendant rock elude the scenting foe. 

He bade t^K^ silver majesty of night 
Rerolre her circles, and increase her light; 
jbMim'd a pruTiDce to each rolling sphere. 
And taught the Sun to regulate the year. 
At his command, wide hov'ring o'er the plain, 
Primeral night mumes her gloomy reign : 
Tbeo from their dens, impatient oTdelay, 
The nrage monsters bend thefr speedy way, 
Hovl thro' the spacious waste, and chase their 

frighted prey. 
Here stalks the shaggy monarch of the wood, 
Taoght from thy proridenoe to ask his food : 
To thee, O Father, to thy boaotcous skies. 
He rears his mane, and rolls his glaring eyes; 
He roars ; the desert trembles wide around. 
And l e p ei'c u swr e hills repeat the sound. 

Nov orient gems the eastern skies adorn, 
Aad joyful Nature bails the op'ning mom : 
The rovers, conscious of approaching day, 
Fly to their sheHeiv, and forget their prey. 
Lsborioos man, with moderate slumber blest. 
Springs cheerfml to his toil from downy rest ; 
Till grsteful evening, with her argent train. 
Bid ybonr cease, anid ease the weary swain. 

** Hail ! sov*nptgi goodness, all -productive mind ! 
On til thy werks thyself inscrtbM we find : 
How rarioas bM, hosr varirHislfr endowed, 
Hov great their number, atKl each part how good ! 
How perfect then must the great Parent shine. 
Who, with one act of energy divine. 
Laid the va»t plan, and (inish'd the design !" [sue, 
Where-eVr the pleasing search my thought! pur- 
Unbounded goodness rises to my view ; 
Nor does our world alone its influence share ; 
Exhaostlesa boonty, and unwearied care. 
Extends thronprh all tb' iofinitiidc of space. 
And eirdes Nature with a khid embrace. 
The aanre kingdoms of the deep below. 
Thy powV, thy wisdom, and thy goodness show : 
Here multitudes of various beings stray. 
Crowd the profound, or on the surface play ; 
Tall navies here their doubtful way explore, 
Aad ev*ry product waft fipom ev*ry shore ; 
Hence meagre want expeird, and sanguine strife, 
For the mild charms of cultivated life ; 
Hence social union spreads from soul to soul. 
And India joirts m friendship with the pole. 
Here the huge potent of the scaly train 
Enormous sails incumbent o*er the narn, 
Ao animated isle ; and in his way. 
Dashes to Heaven's bine arch the foamy sea : 
When ?kies and ocean mingle storm and flame. 
Portending instant wreck to Nature's frame. 



' Pleased in the scene, he mocks, with eoascioos pride* 
The VolleyM lightening, and the surfing tide ; 
And, while the wrathful elements engage. 
Foments with horrid sport the tempest^s rage. 
All these thy watchful providence supplies. 
To thee alone they turn their waiting eyes ; 
For them thou open'st thy exhaustless store. 
Till th^ capacious wish can grasp no more. 

fiut, if one moment thou thy face sboold^st hide. 
Thy glory clouded, or thy smiles denyM, 
Then widow *d Nature veils her mournful eyes. 
And vents her grief in universal cries : 
Then glcx>my Death with all his meagre train, 
Wide o'er the nations spreads his dismal retgn ; 
Sea, enrth, and air, the boundless rava^ moara. 
And all their hosts to native dust retnm. 
But when again thy glory is displayed. 
Revived creation lifts her cheerful head ; 
New rising forms thy potent smiles obey. 
And life rekindles at the genial ray : 
United thanks replenished Nature pays 
And Heav'n and F^rth resound tlieir Maker's praise 

When time shall hi eternity be lott^ 
And hoary Nature laugtiish into dust; 
For ever young thy glory shall remain. 
Vast as thy being, endless as thy reign. 
Thon, from the regions of eternal day, 
Vicw'st all thy works at one immense survey : 
Pleas'd, thou behold 'st the whole propensely tead 
To perfect happiness, its glorious end. 

If thou to VjkTih but turn thy wrathful eyes. 
Her basis trembles, and her offspring dies : 
Thou smit'st the hills, and, at th* Almighty Wow, 
Their summits kindle, and their inwards glow. 

While this immortal spark of heav'niy flame 
Distends my breast, and animates my frame ; 
To thee my ardent praises shall be borne 
On the first breeze that wakes the blushing ttiorti i 
The latcb-t star shall hear the pleasing sooad. 
And Nature in full choir shall join aroQ«d« 
When full of thee my ^9tA eacursive flies 
Thro* air, earth, ocean, or thy legal skies 5 
From world to world, new wondera still 1 Gnd, 
And aH the Godhead flashes 00 m^ niad. [fliglit 
When, wing'd with whirlwinds, Vice shall take its 
To the deep bosom of eternal uight. 
To thee my soul shall endless praises payt 
Join, meu and angels, join th* exalted Uy I 



PSAL^f CXXXIX. fiHTATaa. 

Me, O my God ! thy piercmg eye, 

In motion, or at rest, Sunreys; 
If to the lonely couch I fly, 

Or travel thro' frequented ways ; 
Where e'er I move, thy boundless reign. 
Thy mighty presence, circles all the aoeae. 
Where shall my thoughts from thee retife. 

Whose view pervades my inmost heart ! 
The latent, kindling, young desire. 

The word, *ere fimm my lips it part. 
To thee their various fbrms display. 
And shine reveal'd in thy nnckmdsd dagr* 



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BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



3eliiDd me if I tarn my eyes« 

Or forward bend my wandering light, 
Whatever objects roaod me rise 

Tbro' the wide fields of air and light ; 
With thee impTe8t*d, each Tarioui frame 
The formm j;, moTing, present Ood proclaim. 
Father of all, omniscient Mind, 

Thy wisdom who can comprehend ? 
Its highest point what eye can find. 

Or to its lowest depths descend ? 
That wisdom, which, 'ere things began. 
Saw full exprest th' all -comprehending plan ! 
What cavern deep, what hill sublime. 

Beyond thy reach, shall I pursue ? 
Wliat dark recess, what distant clime, 

Shall hide me from thy distant view ? 
Where from thy spirit shall I fly, 
Diffusive, vital, felt thro* Earth and sky ? 
If up to Heaven's etherial height, 

Thy prospect to elude, I rise ; 
Id ipleodoor there, teverol v bright, ' 

lliy presence shall my sight surprise : 
There, beammg from their source divine, . 
In full meridian, ^ght and beaoty shine. 
Beneath the pendant globe if laid. 

If plungM in Heirs abyss profound, 
I call on night's impervious shade 

To spread essential blackness round; 
Conspicuous to thy wide surrey, 
£v>n Hell's grim horrours kindle into dayv 
Tbee» mighty God ! my w6nd'ring soul. 

Thee, all her conscious powers adore; 
Whose being circumscribe the whole, 

Whose eyes its utmost bounds explore t 
Alike illum'd by native light, 
Anud the Sun's full blaze, or gloom of night. 
If throogh the fields of ether home. 

The living winds my flight austain ; 
If OD the rosy wings of mon, 

I seek the distant western main ; 
There, O my God ! thou still art found. 
Thy pofw'r upboMs me, and thy arms surround. 
Thy essenee fills this breatbrag frame. 

It glows in ev'ry consoiouit part ; 
Li^ts up my anul with livelier flame, 

And feeds with life my beatjng heart : 
tJnfelt along my veins it glides. 
And through their mazes rolls the purple tides. 
WhHe in the silent iromb enckMPd, 

A growhig embryo yet I hiy. 
Thy band my various parts dii^'d. 

Thy breath roftis'd life's genial ray ; 
Till, finish'd by thy wondrous plan, 
I rose the dread, miyestic form of man. 
To thee, from whom my being came. 

Whose smile is all the Heav'n I know, 
Keplete with all my wondrous theme, 

To thee, my votive stnuns shall flow : 
Great Archetype ! who first design'd, 
Es^preMive of thy glory, human khid. . 
Who can the stars of Heav'n explore. 

The flow'rs that deck the verdant plain, , 
Tb' unnumher'd sands that form the shore. 

The drops that swell the spaduus nuun ? 
Let him thy wonders poblbh round. 
Till Earth and Heav'n's eternal throoe mound. 



As subterraneous jSames confin'd. 
From Earth's dark womb impetuous rise. 

The conflagration, fanned by wind. 
Wraps realms, and blazes to the skies s 

In lightning's flash, and thunder's roar. 

Thus vice. shall feei the tempest of thy pow'r. 

Fly then, as far as pole from pole. 

Ye sons of slaughter, quick retire ; 
At whose approach my kindling soul 

Awakes to unextinguish'd ire : 
Fly^ nor prafvoke the thunder's aim. 
You, who in scorn pronounce th' Almighty's 
The wretch who dares thy pow'r defy. 

And on thy vengeance loudly call. 
On him not pity's melting eye, 

Nor partial favour, e'er shall fall : 
Still shall thy foes be mine, still share 
Unpity'd torture, and unmix'd despair. 
Beho)d, O God I behold me stand. 

And to thy strict regard disclose 
Wbate'er was acted by my hand, 

Wh^te'er my inmost thoughts propose : 
If vice indulged their candour stain. 
Be all my portion bitterness and pain. 

But, O ! if nature, weak and frail. 
To strong temptaUons oft give way ; 

If doubt, or passion, oft prevail 
O'er wond'ring reason's feeble ray ; 

Let not thy firowns my fisnlt reprove. 

But guide thy creatuire with a Fath^s love. 



AN HYMN TO DIVJNE LOVE. 

IN IMITATION OP SPllfCBlU 

No more of lower flames, whose pleasing rage 
WHh sighs and soft complaints 1 weakly fed ; 
At whose unworthy shrine, my budding age. 
And willing Muse, their first devotion paid. 
Fly, nurse of madness, to eternal shade : 
Far firom my soul abjur'd and banish*d fly. 
And yield to nobler fires, that lift the soul more 
high. 
O Love \ coeval with thy parent God, 
To thee I kneel, thy pr^ent aid implore ; 
At whose celestial voice and pow'rfhl nod 
Old Discord fled, and Chaos ceas'd to roAr, 
Light smii'd, and order rose, unseen before. 
But in the plan of the eternal mmi), [designM. 
When God design'd the work, and lov'd the work 
Thou fill'dsit the waste of ocean, earth, and air. 
With multitudes that swim, or walk, or fly : 
From rolling worlds descends thy generous care. 
To insect crowds that 'scape the nicest eye : 
For each a sphere was circumscrib'd by' thee. 
To bless, and to be bless'd, their noblest end ; 
To which, with speedy course, they all unerring 
tend. 
Consdoos of thee, with nobler powers endo'd. 
Next roan, thy dariipg, into being rote. 
Immortal, form'd for high beatitude, 
Whioh neither end nor interruption knows, 
Tiljevil, conch'd in fraud, be{nn hit woes : 
Then to thy aid Was boundless wisdom jotn'd. 
And for apostate Dian redemption thus dcf ign'd. 

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HYMNS. 



187 



By tbe0^ kif gkviet veiTd in mortal sbroud, 
God's dtrling ofibpring teft bit seat on high ; 
AttJ Hetv^and Earth, ainaz*d and trembling vlewM 
Their voooded SorVeign groan, and bleed, and die. 
fiytfaee m triiinipb to his native sky, 

Od aogeb wings, the victor Hod aspir'd, 

Relenting jastioesiniPd and frowning wrath retir*d. 
To tbee, muniilc, ever^flaming Lore ! 
Ooe aodless hymn united nature sings : 
To tbee the bright inhabitants above 
Tooe the glad voice, and sweep the warbling strings. 
From pole to pole^ on ever-waving wings, 

Winds waft thy praise, by rolling planets tun'd; 

Aid then, O Love! my voice to emulate the sound. 

It comes ! it comes ! I (Seel internal day ; 
Trsufusive warmth through all my bosom glows ; 
My soul expanding gives the torrent way ; 
Thro' all my veins it kindles as it flows. 
Tbos, ravbh'd from the scene of night and woes. 

Oh ! match me, bear me to thy happy reign ; 

There teach my tongue tby praise in more exalted 
strain. 



AS HYMN TO BENEVOLENCE. 

fLn f source of transport ever new ; 
ythM thy kind dictates I pursue, 

I taste a joy sincere ; 
Too vast for little minds to know. 
Who on themselves alone bestow 

Tbetr wishes and their care. 

« 

Dtoghter of God ! delight of man * 
Froo thee felicity began ; 

Which still thy band sustains : 
By thte sweet Pence her empire spread. 
Fair Sdeoce rais'd her laurePd head, 

iod Discord gnaah'd in chains. 
Far ss the pointed sunbeam flies, 
Thfoogh peopled Earth and surry skies. 

All Nature owns thy nod : 
We see thy energy prevail 
ThiOQgh Being's ever-rising scale, 

FImn nothing ev*n to God. 
Enry, that tortnres her own heart 
Wkb plagues and ever-burning smart, 

Tby cliamss divine expel : 
i|hast she shuts ber livid eyes. 
And, wing'd with tenfold fury, flies 

To native night and HelU 
By tbee inspired, the gen*rous breas^t. 
Id blesBog others only blest. 

With goodness large and free, 
Delights the widow's tears to stay. 
To teach the blind their smoothest way, 

iad aid the feeble knee. 
come ! and o'er my bosom reign. 
Expand my heart, inflame each vein. 

Thro' ev*ry action shine ; 
Each low, each selfish, wish controul. 
With all thy essence warm my soul. 

And make me wholly thine. 
Kbr let &ir Virtue's mortal bane. 
The soul-iCQiitracting thirst of gaiii. 



My faintest wishes sway ; 
By her possessed, ere hearts refine. 
In Hell's dark depth shall mercy shine. 

And kindle endless day. 
If from thy sacred paths I turn, 
Nor feel their griefs, while others mourn. 

Nor with their pleasures glow : 
Banish'd from God, from bliss, and thee. 
My own tormentor let me be. 

And groan in hopeless woe. 



AN HYMN TO FORTITUDE. 

NiGBT, brooding o'er her mute domain. 
In awful silence wraps her rei^ ; 
Clouds press on clouds, and, as they rise^ 
Condense to solid gloom the skies. 

Portentous, through the foggy air. 
To wake the demon of despair. 
The raven hoarse, and boding owl. 
To Hecate curst anthems howl. 

Intent, with execrable art. 
To bum the veins, and tear the heart. 
The witch, unhallow'd bones to raise, 
Through fun'ral ^-aults and chamels strays ; 
Calls the damn'd shade from ev*ry cell. 
And adds new labours to their Hell. 

And, shield me Heav'n ! what hollow sound. 
Like fate's dread knell, runs echoing round \ 
The bell strikes one, that magic hour. 
When rising fiends exert their pow'r. 
And now, sure now, some cause unblest 
Breathes more than horrour thro' my breast s 
How deep the breeze*! how dim the light ! 
What spectres swim before my sight ! 
My frozen limbs pale terrour chains. 
And in wild eddies wheels my brains : 
My icy blood forgets to roll. 
And death ev'n seems to seize my soul. 
What sacred pow'r, what healing art. 
Shall bid my soul herself assert ; 
Shall rouse th' immortal active flame. 
And teach her whence her being came ? 

O Fortitude I divinely bright, 
O Virtue's child, and man*s delight 1 
Descend, an amicable guest. 
And with thy firmness steel my breast : 
Descend propitious to my lays. 
And, while my l3rre resounds thy praise. 
With energy divinely strong. 
Exalt my soul, and warm my song. 

When raving in eternal pains, 
And loaded with ten thousand chains. 
Vice, deep in Phlegeton, yet lay. 
Nor with her visage blasted day ; 
No fear to guiltless man was known. 
For God and Virtue reign'd alone. 
But, when from native flames and night. 
The cursed monster wingM her flight. 
Pale Fear, among her hideous train, 
Chas'd sweet Contentment from her reign; 
Plac'd Death and Hell before each eye. 
And wrapt in mist the golden sky ; 
Banished firom day each dear delight. 
And shook with conscious starts t^ night ' 

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188 



BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



When, from th* imperial seats cm high. 
The Lord of natore tum'd bis eye 
To view the state of things below ; 
Still blest to make his creatures so : 
From Earth he saw Astrssa fly, 
Aod seek her mansions in the sky ; 
Peace, crown'd with olives, left her throne, 
And white-robM Innocence was gone : 
While Vice, revealM in open day, 
Sole tyrant nil'd with iron sway ; 
And Virtue veiPd her weeping charms. 
And fled for refuge to his arms. 
Her altars scom*d, her shrines defac'd— 
Whom thus th*. essential Good addressed. 

" Then, whom my soul adores alone, 
Effulgent sharer of my throne, 
-Pair em|)ress of eternity ! 
Who uncreated reign*st like me ; 
Whom I, who sole and boundless sway, 
With pleasure infinite obey : 
To yon diurnal scenes below. 
Who feel their folly hi their woe. 
Again propitious turn thy flight, 
Again oppose yon tyrant's might ; 
To Earth thy ck>ndless charms disclose, 
Bevive thy friends, and blast thy foes : 
Thy triumphs man shall raptnr'd see. 
Act, suffer, live, and die for thee. 
But since all crimes their Hell contafai* 
Since all must feel who merit pain, 
, Let Fortitude thy steps attend, 
And be, like thee, to man • friend ; 
To urge him on the arduoos road. 
That leads to virtue, bliss, and God ; 
To blunt the sting of ev*ry grief. 
And be to all a near relief. ** 

He said ; and she, with smiles divine. 
Which made all Heav*n more brightly shlne^ 
To Earth retom'd with all her train. 
And brought the golden age again. 
Since erring mortals, unconstrainM, 
The God, that warms their breast, pro£ui'd. 
She, guardian of their joys no more, 
Could only leave tliem, and d^lore : 
They, now the easy prey of pain, 
Curst in their wish, their choice obtain ; 
Till armM with Heav'n and fiste, she came 
Her destin'd hononrs to reclaim. 
Vice and her slaves beheld her flight. 
And fled, like birds obscene, from Kght, 
Back to th* abode of pli^es return. 
To sin and smait, blaspheme and bum. 

Thou, goddess ! shioe, with sacred aid. 
Hast ev*ry grief and pain allay'd. 
To joy converted ev'ry smart. 
And plac'd a Uc^vHi m evVy heart : 
By thee we act, by thee sustain, 
Thou aacred antidote of pain F 
At thy great nod the Alps > subside, 
Beluctant rivers turn their tide ; 
With all thy fisrce Alcides warm'd. 
His hand against oppression arm*d : 
By thee his mighty nerves were strung, 
By thee his sti«i^h for ever young ; 
And whilst on bmtal force he press'd. 
His vigour, wHh his foes, incrcasM. 

1 Alludmg to the Ustorr of Haraibal. 



By thee, like Jofve's almighty baa4» 
Ambition's havock to withstand, 
Timoleon * rose, the scourge of fiste. 
And hurPd a tyrant from his state ; 
The brother in his soul subdued. 
And warm*d the poniard in his blood ; . 
A soul by so much virtue firM, 
Not Greece alone, but Heav*u admV'd. 

But in these dregs of human kind. 
These days to guilt and fear resign'd, ! 

How rare such views the heart elate ! 
To brave the last extremes of Fate ; 
Like Heav'n's almighty pow'r serene. 
With fix*d regard to view the scene. 
When Nature quakes beneath the storm, 
And Homyiv wean its direst from. 
Tho^ future worlds are now desory'd* 
Tbo' Paid Iws writ, and Jesus dy^d, 
Dispell'd the dark infernal slwde, 
Ai^ all the UeavHi of HeavW display'd ; 
Curst with onnnmber'd groundless fears. 
Hair pale yon sMv*ring wratcb appaars ! 
For him the day-light shines in vain, 
For him -the fields no joys contain } 
Nature's whole charms to him are lost. 
No more the woods their muste 'boast ; 
No more the meads their vernal bloooi. 
No more the gales their rich perfiupe : 
Impending mitts deform tfie dcy. 
And beauty withers in his eye. 
In hopes his terroor to elud^. 
By day he mingles with the crowd ; 
Yet finds his soul to fears f prey. 
In busy crowds, and open day. 
If night his lonely walk surprise. 
What horrid visions round him rite ; 
That blasted osk, which maeta his way. 
Shown by the meteor's suddea rsy. 
The midnight murd'reHft known relres*. 
Felt Ueav'n^ avesigefol bolt of Inte ; 
The clashing chain, the groan profound. 
Loud from jron ruin'd tow'r resound ; 
And noF the spot ^ mmm^ trei4. 
Where some iclM4i|ghl»r'd corse was laid { 
He feels fixt Earth beiy^at^ him l^eod. 
Deep murmurs from her oavet aseswd ; 
Till all his soul, by fe«oy m9J% 
Sees lurid phantoms ccewd Ibe sbadff ; 
While shrouded manes palely stare, 
And beck'ning wish to breathe .their care : 
Thus real woes from false he bears. 
And feels the death, the Hell, be Jttaj%. 

O thou I whose spirit wsltjm my t>ou£;. 
With energy divinely strong, 
Erect his soul, confirm his breast, ' 
And let him know the sweets of rest ; 
Till ev'ry human pain and care. 
All that may be, and all that are, 
But felse imag^'d ills appear 
Beneath our^hope, our grief, or fear. 
And, if I right invoke thy aid, 
By thee be all my wnesaUay'd ; 
With soom in^tn^ct me to die^ 
Imposing fiear, and lawless joy ; 

< Timoletm, havipgkMlg ia vain impoftunod his 
brother to resign the despetiam of Cornstli, at 
last restored the libcity of the people by ftiiMiji^ 
him. VidepLUT. 



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ODES. 



1«9 



To sln^ (Bio* tbif teene (ff strife. 

The ptiH of death, tbe pcngs of IHe» 

With MBUot brow to meet my hte, 

Aodneet tcill mere, Bnanthe's hate. 

id, vfaco some tmum her charms shftll clsim. 

Who fcds not half my gen*rous flame, 

WboMcam her ap|^l-Toice beguiles, 

Ob whom she bendi her hpav'nly smiles ; 

fo vbdo the weepc, fbr whom she gloiini, 

Oo vbom her treasured s<ml bestows ; 

Whea perfect muUnl joy th€y share. 

Ah ! joy ohaoeM by my despair I 

Mb bdngi in each flamioft krv, 

And Mest, still rise to higher bliss : 

TVa, tbea. esirtt thy utmost pow'r, 

Aad teach me beiiu^ tn eiidm« ; 

Latreasoo from the helm tfiould start, 

Asd bwless fory mlo my hfeart ; 

I^aMdoessall my Saul subdue. 

To ask her Maker, what dost thoo ? 

Yd, coaM*st thoo in that draadfiil hour» 

Os my nck'd soul all Lethe pom-, 

Or^ oe with the gelid br^ese, 

Tbat cfasios in Ice th* indigoant seas; 

Or vnp my heart in tenfold steel, 

Itta am man, aod ttiJl most feeL 



I 



TBE WISH SATISFfBD, 
AN IRRBOULAR ODB. 

Too loag, my soul ! tbou*rt toft below, 

Ami hope to hope, fnm fear to fsar : 
Hot great, hew lasting eT*ry woe t 

Sach joy how short, how insincere I 
Ton arooad thy searchiDg eyes 
Thry sll the bright vaneHet; 

Aad, with cxaeteat carei 
Scisctfrom all the shining crowd, 
Sone brtiiig joy. %oaie aovhreign good, 

Asd ix thy wishes there. 
Widi toil amass a nugfaty store 
Of gJoviDg itones, or yellow ere ; 
^the 6elds with goldeo grain, 
<^^ eitb lowii^ hMds the pUio, 
Ki the Bnrble docnes ascend, 
^the pleasant view extend, 
^iww aod grofea and woods appear, 
^^riof and autumn fill the year : 
J»e» ttese are joys, fbll, permanent, sifioere ; 
^ DOW each boundless wish can a^ no morr* 
Oi roses BOW recKo'4, 

I bagoish mto Yest ; 
^VBcvmi in my mind, 
^ craving wish uable* t 
Jtih ! in vain, 
vaeafasent joy still givca me pain, 

Bf toys elatad, or by toys deprest 
^mehfaig joy can sooth my grief? 
^baliiy piflaswe yield my soul reUcT ? 
Jftwrtj^he bliss alffndy wMmt, 
^Jajo ea's perfoasive nnm^ 

iMMIiattletyor charms 
«w^lbppy hour cmployU 



As th^ speedy moments roll, 

Let some Oew joy conspire ; 
Hebe, fill the rosy bowl ; 

Orpheus, tune the lyre ; 
To new-born rapture wake (he soul^ 

And kindle young desire : 
While, a beauteous choir around, 
Tunefbl virgins join the sound. 
Panting bosoms, speaking eyes. 
Yielding smiles, aod trembling sight : 
Thro' melting erroor let their voices rove. 
And trace th* enchanting mase of haroMmy and love. 
Still, still Insatiate of delight 

My wishes open, as my joys increase : 
What now shall stop their rotless flight. 

And yield them kind redress } 
For something still unknown I sigh. 
Beyond what strikes the toaob, the ear, or eye : 
Whence shall I seek, or how pursue 
The phantom, that eludes my view, 

Aod cheats my fond embraoe } 

Thus, while her wanton toils fbnd Pleasure spread. 

By sense and passion blindly led, 

1 cbasM the syren thro* the flow*ry maze. 

And courted death ten thousand ways : 

Kind Heav'n beheld, with pitjring eyes. 

My restless toil, my fruitless sighs \ 

And, from the realms of endless day, 

A bright immortal wing'd his way ; 

Swift as a sun-beam down he flew, 

And stood discloe'd, efllulgent to my view. 

*' Fond man, he cry*d, thy fruitless search fbrbeari 

Nor Tainly hope, within this narrow sphere, 

A certain happiness to find. 

Unbounded as thy wish, eternal as ^ mind t 

In God, in perfect good alone. 

The anxious soul can find repose i 
Nor to a bliss beneath his throne. 

One hour of full enjoyment owes : 
He, only he, can fill each wide dc«ire, 

Who to each wish its being gave ; 
Not all the charms which morUl wishes fire. 
Not all which angels in the skies admire. 

But God*s paternal smile, can bid it ceaae to emfa> 
Him then pursue, without delay ; 
He is thy prize, and virtue is thy way.'* 
Then to the winds his radiant plumes be spread. 
And from my wond'rmg eyes, more swift than light- 

nmgfled. 



AS ODE TO HAPPINESS. 

Thb morning dawns, the ev'ning shades 

Fair Nature's various face disguise ; 
No scene to rest my heart persuades, 

Ndmoment frees from tears my eyes : 
Whatever onoe charm'd the laughing hour. 
Now boasts no more its pleasrog pow'r; 
Each former object of delight. 
Beyond redemption, wings its flight; 
And, where it smil'd, the darling of my tight. 

Prospects of woe and horrid phantoms rite. 
O Happmess ! immortal foir, 

Wboe does thy subtile essence dwell } 
Dost thou relax the hermit's care, 
Companioa in the lonely cell ^ r^ r 

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BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



190 

Or, dost thou on the sunny plain 
lotpire the reed, and cheer the swaia ? 
Or, fcomfal of each low retreat. 
On fortune's favour doit thou wait ; 
And, in the gilded chambers of the great, 

Protraet the revel, and the pleasure swell ? 
Ah me ! the hermit's cell explore ; 

TTiy absence he, like me, complains ; 
While murm'ring streams along the shore. 

Echo the love-sick shepherd's strains : 
Nor, where the gilded domes aspire, 
Deign^st thou, O goddess ! to retire : 
Though there the Loves and Graces play. 
Though wine and music court thy stay ; 
Thou fly'st, alas ! and who can trace, thy way, 

Or say what place thy beav'nly form contains i 
If to mankind I turn my view, 

Flatter'd with hopes of social joy ; 
Bapine and blood ^ mankind pursue, 

As God had fbrm'd them to destroy. 
Discord, at whose tremendous view 
Hell quakes with horroiir ever new, 
Ko more by endless night deprest. 
Pours all her venom thro' each breast ; 
And, while deep groans and carnage are increas'd. 

Smiles grim, the rising mischief to enjoy. 
" Hence, hence, indignant turn thine eyes," 

To my dejected soul I said ; 
<* See, to the shade Euanthe flies. 
Go, 6nd Euanthe m the shade : 
Her angel-fbrm thy sight shall charm. 
Thy heart her angel-goodness warm ; 
There, shall no wanU thy steps pursue. 
No wakeful care contract thy brow ; 
Music each sound, and beauty ev'ry view. 

Shall ev'ry sense with full delight mvadti." 
Exulting in the charming thought. 
Thither with hasty steps I press ; 
And while th' enchanting maid I sought, 

Thank'd Heav'n for all my past distress : 
Increasing hopes my journey checr'd. 
And now in reach the Wiss appear'd ; 
" Grant this sole boon, O Fale !" 1 cry'd ; 
Be all thy other gifts deny 'd. 
In this shall all my wishes be supply'd j 

And sure a love like mine deserves no less." 
In vain, alas! in vajn my pray'r ; 

Fate mix'd the accents with the wind ; 
Th' illusive form dissolv'd in air, 

And left my soul to grief rcsign'd : 
As fiwr from all my hopes she flics 
As deepest seas from loftiest skies : 
Yet, still, on fancy deep imprest. 
The sad, the dear ideas rest j 
Yet still the recent sorrows heave my breast. 

Hang black o'er life, and prey upon my mmd. 
Ah ! goddess, scarce to mortals known. 

Who with thy shadow madly stray, 
At length from Heav'n, thy sacred throne. 

Dart thro' my soul one cheerful ray : 
Ah ! with some sacred lenient art. 
Allay the anguish of my heart ; 
Ah ! teach me, patient to sustain 
life's various stores of ^-ief and pain; 
Or, if I thus prefer my pray'r in rain, 
Soon let me find thee in eternal day. 

> This ode was written b the year n45. 



ON EUJNTHE'S ABSENCE^ 
AN ODE. 
Blest Heav'n! and thou fair world hetow 1 

Is there no cure to sooth my smart? 
No beilm to heal a lover's woe^ 
That bids his eyes for ever flow. 

Consumes his soul, and pines his he^ ? 
And will no friendly arm above 
Relieve my tortur'd ionl from love? 
As swift-descending <bow*rs of rain. 

Deform with mud the clearest streams; 
As rising mists Heav'n's aznre sUin, 
Tmg'd with Aurora's blush in vain ; 

As fades the flow'r in mid-day b" 
On life thus tender sorrows prey, 
And^irrap in gloom its promis'd day. 
Ye plains, where dear Euanthe strays^ 

Ye various objects of her view, 
Bedeck'd in beauty's brightest blaze ; 
Let all iU forms, and all iu rays, 

Whore-e'er she turns, her eyes pursue s 
All fair, as she, let Nature shine : 
Ah! then, how lovely ! how divine 1 
Wher«-e'er the thymy vales descend. 

And breathe ambrosial fragrance round. 
Proportion just, thy line extend. 
And teach the prospect where to end ; 

While woods or mountains mark the bound : 
That each fair scene which strikes her eye. 
May chtfrm with sweet variety. 
Ye streams, that, m perpetual flow. 

Still warble on your mazy way. 
Murmur Euanthe, as you go; 
Murmur a love-sick poet's woe: 

Ye ff^thcr'd warblers, join the lay f 
Sing how I suffer, how complain ; 
Yet name not him who fsels the pain. 
And thou, eternal ruling Pow'r ! 

If spotless virtue clainrj thy care. 
Around unheard of blessings show'r; 
Let some new pleasure crown each hour. 

And make her blest, as good and fairi 
Of all thy works, to mortals known. 
The best and fairest she alone. 



AN ODE TO A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, 

BOUND #0R CUIMBA. 

Attbotj the Mnse, whose numbers flow 
Faithful to^sacred friendship's woe; 

And let the Scotian lyre 
ObUin thy pity and thy care : 
While thy lov'd walks and native air 

The solemn sounds inspire. 
That native air, these walks, no more 
Blest with their fav'rite, now deplore. 

And join the plaintive strain : 
While, urg'd by winds and waves, he fliea, 
Wher« unknown stars, thro' unknown ^M^ 

Their trackless coprae mamtain. 
Yet think : by ev'ry keener smart. 
That thrills a friend or brother's heart j^ 



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ODES. 



191 



By all the gnth that rue, 
Aud with dumb anguish hcarc thy breait, 
\Vbeo tbcence robs thy soal of rest, 

Aod swdis with tearf the eyes : 
By all oar sorrows aver new, 
Tbiok whom you fly, and what pursue { 

Aod jud^e by your's our pain : 
Piom fiiendship** dear tenacious arms, 
Ym Ay, perhaps, to wars alarms, 

To aogry skies and main. 
The smiling plain, the solemn shade, 
With all the Tarious charms displayed, 

That Summer's face adorn ; 
Summer, with all that^s gay or sweet, 
With transport loners thy sense ta meet. 

And courts thy dear return. 
The gentle Sun, the fsnning gale, 
llic rocal wo<id, the fragrant rale, 

Thy presence all implore : 
Can then a waste of sea and sky. 
That knows no limits, charm thine eye, 

Tbioe ear the tempesf^ roar > 
Rut why such weak attractions nams^ 
While ev*ry warmer social claim 

Demands the mournful lay ? 
Ah ! Iiear a brother*8 moving sighs, 
Tliro' tears, behold a sister*s eyes 

Emit a faded ray. 
TtJT young allies, by Nature taught 
T(» M the tender pang of thought 

Which friends in absence claim ; 
Tatbeo, with sorrow alUsincere, 
Oft psy the tributary tear, 

Ojft lisp with joy thy name. 
N'or these thy absence mourn alone, 
dearly lov'd ! tho' faintly known ; 

One yet unsuug remains : 
Nature, when scarce fair tight he know, 
Soatcb'd Hcav*n, Earth, beauty from his \ncw. 

And darkness round him reigns. 
The Muse with pity viewM his doom ; 
Aud, darting thro* th' eternal gloom 

An mtellectual ray, ^ 

Hade him with music's Toice inspire 
The plaintive flute, the sprightly lyre. 

And tune th* impassioned lay. 
Thus, iho* despairing of relief. 
With ct'ry mark of heart-felt grief. 

Thy absence we complain : 
Uliile now, perhaps, th' auspicious gale 
Inrites to spread the flying sail, 

Aod all our tears are vain. 
Prrteet him Heav*n : but hence each fear j 
Sine* endlci« goodness, emlless care 

litis mighty fabric guides ; 
Conmands the tempest where to stray, 
Directs the lightning's slanting way. 

And rales the refluent tides. 
See, from th* effulgence of bis reign. 
With pleas'd surrey. Omniscience deign 

Thy wondrous worth to view : 
See, fioffi the realms of endless day, 
Inmortal guardians wing their way, 

And all ihy steps pursue. 
If nbte clouds, whose wombs contain 
llie jnonn'riof bolt, or dashing rain. 



The blue serene deform ; 
Myriads from Heat'n's etheriai height; 
Shall clear the gloom, restore the light. 

And chase th* impending storm* 



^S IRREGULAR ODE, 

SIMT TO A LADY ON Uia MAtaUOE-DAY. 

With all your wings, ye moments, fly. 

And drive the tardy Sun along ; 
Till that glad morn shall paint the sky. [sotJir. 

Which wakes the Muse, and claims the raptur'd 
See Nature with our wishes join. 
To aid the dear, the blest design ; 
See Time precipitate his way, 
To bring th* expected hanpy day ; 
See, the wish'd .for dawn appears, 
A more than wonted glow she wean : 

Hark ! Hymeneals sound ; 
Each Muse awakes her softest lyre ; 
Each airy warbler swells the choir ; 

'TIS music all around. 
Awake, ye nymphs, the blushing bride, 
T*eclipse Aurora's rosy pride ; 
Wliile virgin shame retards her way, 
And Ix>ve, half-angry, chides her stay: 
While hopes and fears alternate reign. 
Intermingling bliss and pain ; 
O'er all her charms diffuse peculiar grace. 
Pant in her shiv'ring heart, and vary in her imot^ 
At length consent, reluctant feir, 

To bless thy long-expecting lover*s eyes ! 
Too long his sighs are lost in air, 

At length resign the bliss for which he dies: 
The Muses, pre^Kient of your future joys. 

Dilate my soul, and prompt tlie cheerful lay; 
While they, thro' coming times, with glad surprise. 

The long successive brightoing scenes survey. 
I^ ! to your sight a blooming offspring rise. 
And add new ardour to the nuptial ties ; 

While in each form you both united shine; 
Fresh hon<»urs wait your temples to adorn ; 
For you glad Ceres tills the flowing horn, 

AtKi Hcav'n aud fate to bless your days combine. 
While life gives pleasure, life shall still remain. 
Till Death, with gentle band, shall shut the pleas. 

ing scene : 
Safe, sable guide to that celestial shore, [no more ! 
Where pleasure knows no end, and change is fSear'd 



TO A COSUETTE, 

AN ODE. 

At length, vain, airy flutt'rcr, fly ; 
Nor vex the public ear and eye 

With all this noise and glare : 
Thy wiser kindred gnats behold 
All shrouded in their pareut mould. 

Forsake the chilling air. 
Of conquest there they safely dream ; 
Nor gentle breeze, nor transient glean. 

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BLACKLOCK'S POCMS* 



Allures them forth to pimy ! 
But thoo, alike m froit and flames 
Insatmte of the cmel game. 

Still on maoktad would'tt pi^ej. 
Thy conscious charQis, thy practis'd arts. 

Those adventitious beams that round thee shine. 
Reserve for unexperienced hearts : 

Superior spells despair to conquer mine. 
do, bid the snnshbe of thine eyes 
Melt rigid winter; warm the skies. 

And set the rivers free ; 
O^er fields immersed in fixwt and snow. 
Bid fiow'rs with smiling verdure grow ; 

Then hope to soften me. 
No, Heav'n and freedom witness bear» 
This heart no second frown shall fear, 

No second yoke sustain ; 
Enough of female scorn I know ; 

Scarce fiste could break my chain. 
Ye hours, oonsum'd in hopeless pain. 

Ye trees, rascrib'd with many a flaming vow. 
Ye echoes, oft invoked in vain. 

Ye mooo^light walks, ye tinkling rills, adieu f 
Your paint that idle hearts controls ; 
Your fidry nets for feeble aouls. 

By partial fiwoy wrought ; 
Your syren vpioe« your tefflp^og air» 
Your borrowed visage fidsely &ir. 

With me avail you nought. 
Let ev'ry efaarm that wakes desire, 
LeC'«aeh iBsoaring art conspire ; 

Not all can hurt my rest : 
Touch'4 by Ithuriel*s ^ potent spear. 
At once unmask'd the fiends appear. 

In patlve blaekncss drest. 
The speakhig glance, the heaving breast. 

The dieek with lilies ting'd and rosy dye ; 
Hdse joys, which nun all who taste, 

How swifl they hd€ in reason's piecciog eye ! 
Seest thoa yon taper's vivid ray, * 
Which emotales the blaze of day, 

Oifiusiag Ht its light > 
Tho' it from Masts shall stand secure. 
Time urges oa the deatined boor, 
And, le ! it sinks m night 
Such it thy glory, such its date, 
WavM by the sportive hand of fote, 

A while to catch our view : 
Now bright to HeaVn the blace aspires. 
Then sodden from our gaxe reUres, 
And yields to wonders new* 
like this poor torch, thy haughty ami, 

Thy short-Iiv'd splendour on a puff depends ; 
And, soon as fate the stroke prepares. 
The flash in dost and nauseous vapours ends. 



j4N ode 
ON THE REFINEBffENTS IN METAPHYSICAL 

PHILOSOPHY. 
Faisi wisdom; fly, with k\\ thy ^Is « ; 
Tlie dust and cobwebs of the schools 
> See Paradise Lost, book iv, verse 810. 
« Fonnerly the bird of Minerva, but by the mo- 
dtnis ascribed to Dullnesi. 



For me have charms no more i . 
The gros^ M i nerva of our days. 
In mighty bulk my leam'd Essays > 

Reads joyful o'er and o'er. 
Led by her halid a length of time. 
Thro* sense «nd nonsense, piose and rhyart^ 

I beat my painful way ; 
Long, long, revolv'd the mystic page 
Of many a Dutch and German sage. 

And hop'd at last fur day. 
But, as the mole, hkl under ground. 
Still works more dark as morejptvlhand. 

So all my toils were vain : 
For truth and sense indignant fly. 
As for as oconn fipom the sky. 
From all the formal train. 
The Stagyrite «, whose fruidul qoHl 
O'er free-bom nature kmls it still, 

Sostain'd by form and phrase 
Of dire portent and solemn sound. 
Where meaning seldom can be foimd. 

From me shall gain no praise. 
But you, whowooM be truly wise. 
To Nature's light unveil your eyes. 

Her gentle oill obey ; 
She leads by no fkbe wand'rtng glare^ 
No voice amtnguons strikes your ear. 

To bid 3roo vainly stray. 
Not in the gk>omy eell recluse. 
For noble deeds or gen'rous views. 

She bids us w^tch the night ; 
Fair Virtue shines, to all di^ay'd. 
Nor asks the tardy schoolman's aid. 

To teach us what is right 
Pleasure and pain she sets in view, 
An<i which to shun, and which^puninet 

Instructs her pupil's heart : 
Then, letter'd pride, say, what thy gain^ 
To QiAsk, with so much fruitlen pain. 

Thy ignorance with art } 
Thy stiff grimace, and awful tone. 
An idiot's wonder move alone ; 

And, spite of all thy rules. 
The wise in ev'ry age'ooocUide, 
Thy foirest pr o spects, rightly view'd. 

The Paradise of Fools. 
The gamester's hope, when doom'd to loee^ 
The joys of wine, the wanton's vows. 

The fiuthless calm at sea. 
The courtier's word, the crowd's applause^ 
The Jesuit's faith, the sense of laws. 

Are not more fidse than thee. 
Blest he ! who sees, without surprise. 
The various systems fall and rise. 

As shifts the fickle gale ; 
While all their utmost force exert. 
To wound the (oe's unguarded pari^ 
And all alike prevaiL 



' llie author, like others of greater name, bad 
fbrmeriy attempltd to dsmooftrate matters of lact 
k priori. 

« Aristotle, inventor of syllogiMAt> U itAcli noly f 
mentKMied bese. 



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Thus fsicred banU * of yore ha?e sung), 
Hijfh Hear'n with martial clamours rung. 

And cJt*edt of mortal irrath ; 
When cranes and pigmies jHory sought, 
And in the fields of ether fought, 

V^'ith mutual wounds and death. 
I^ Lofric'g sons, mechanic throng. 
Their sylloeistic war prolong, 
Aud reason's empire boast : 
Insbrin'd in deep congenial gloom, 
£temal wrangling be tbeir doom. 

To troth and nature lost ! 
Amu8*d by fancy's fleeting fire. 
Let Malebranche * still for Truth inquire. 

And i»ck his aehing sight : 
WTiilc the coy goddess wings her way. 
To scenes of uncreated day, 
Absorbed in dazzling light. 
V^lth firmer step and graver guise. 
Whilst Locke * in conscious triumph tries. 

Her dwelling to explore ; 
Swift *he eludes his ardent chace, 
A shadow courts his fond embrace, 
Which Hobbes " careasM before. 
Let Dodwell » with the fathers join. 
To strip of energy divine 

The heav'n-descended soul ; 
The test of aense let Berkley 9 ,corn. 
And both on borrowed pinions borne. 

Annihilate the whole. 
In academic Tales retir*tl, 
With Plato's love and beauty fir*d. 

My steps let candour guide ; 
Pt tetiets vain ui^>repossest, 
TJio« lawless tyrants of the br?ast, 

Ofi^aring of zeal and pride ! 
Or, while thro' Nature's walks I stray. 
Would Truth's bright source emit one ray. 

And all my soul inflame ; 
Creation, and her bonnteous laws, 
Her order fix*d, her glorious cause, 
Sboold be my &v'rite theme. 



ODE ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. 



193 



AN ODE 
TO MR&R 



OB THl DEATH OF A PROMISIKO INFAMY. 

WmtR, toucb'd with all thy temler pain. 
The Muses breathe a mournful strain, 

* See Homer. 

* He thought the medium, by which sensible per- 
ceptions were conveyed to us, was God ; in wbose 
essence taith was seen» as in a mirror. 

« His account of nrtue differs not much from that 
of the leviathan. 

'The autlior of the last mentioned piece ; who 
denied the diatioction between vice and virtue, aud 
•ffirmed power and right to be tlie same. 

* He attempted to prove Uie natural mortalitj* 
of the soul, and quoted Uie fathers in favour of hi^ 
opinioo. 

» Author of Dialoguw on tha Non-existence of 
Matter. 
Vol. XVHL 



O ! lift thy languid eye J 
O ! deign a calm auspicious car j 
The Muse shall yield thee tear for tear. 

And mingle sigh with sigh. 

Not for the Thracian bard, whose lyre 
Could rocks and woods with soul inspire. 

By jealous fury slain, 
While murmVing on his trembling tongue 
Eurydice imperfect hung. 

The nine could more complain. 

Ah ! say, harmonious sisters, say : 
When swift, to pierce the lovely prey. 

Fate took its cruel aim ; 
When lansuisl^'d ev'ry tender grace. 
Each op'ning bloom that ting'd his face. 

And pangs cpnvub*d his frame : 
Say, could no song of melting woe. 
Revoke the keen determin'd blow. 

That clos'd his sparkling e5'e? 
Tlius roses oft, by early doom. 
Robb'd of their blush and sweet perfume. 

Grow pale, recline, and die. 

Pale, pale and cold the beauteous fi^me \ 
Nor salient pulse, nor vital flame, 

A mother's hopes restore : 
fn vain keen anguish tears her breast, 
By ev'ry temlcr mark exprest. 

He lives, he smiles no more ! 

Such is the fate of human kmd ; 
The fairest form, the brightest mind, 

Can no exemption know : 
Tbp mighty mandate of the sky, 
" That man when bom begins to die," 

Extends to all below. 

In vain a mother's pray*rs ascend, 
Should nature to her sorrows lend 

The native voice of smart ; 
In vain would plaints their force essay 
To hold precarious life one day. 

Or Fate's dread hand avert. 

Pix'd as the rock that braves the main, 
Fix'd as the poles that all sustain. 

Its purpose stands secure : 
The himible hynd who toils for bread. 
The scepter'd hand, the laurel'd head. 

Alike confess its pow'r. 

Since time began, the stream of woes 
Along its rapid current flows ; 

Still swells the groan profound ; 
While age, re-echoing still to age. 
Transmits the annals of its rage. 

And points the recent wound. 

\^'hen human hopes stiblimest towV, 
Then, wanTon in th' excess of powV 

The tyrant throws them down j 
The orphan early mbb'd of aid, 
The widow'd wife, the pli.i;hted maid. 

His sable triumph crown. 

At length to life and joy return ; 

Man was not deslin'd snll to mourn, 
A prey to endless pain : 

Hcav'n's various Land, the heart to form, 

With hli>s and anguish, calm and storm, 
Diversilies the scene : ^^ 1 

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w^ 



BLACKLQCK'S POEMS 



But hides wHh care fronj human eyes. 
What bliss beyond this prospect lies ; 

Lest we, witb life opprest, 
Should grieve its burden to endure, 
Aodf with excursion premature. 

Pursue eternal rest 

From disappointment, grief, and care. 
From every pang of sharp despair, 

T^y charmer wings his way ; 
And, while new scenes his bosom fire. 
He learns to strike the golden lyre. 

And Heaven retounds his lay. 
Lo f where his saered reliques lie^ 
Immortal guardians from the sky 

Their silver wings display ; 
Till, bright emerging from the tomb. 
They rise to Heav'n, their destined home. 

And hail eternal day. 



j4N ode. 



WRITTBM WUBM SICK. 



O PRIMS of life ! O^Uste of joy ! 
Whither so early fla you fly ? 
Scarce half your transient sweetness known. 
Why are you vanished ere full-blown ? 

The beauteous progeny of spring, 
That tinge the zephyr's fragrant wing. 
Each tender bloom, each short-1iT*d flow'r. 
Still flonnsh till their destine hour : 
Your winter too, too soon wiB come, 
And chill in death your vernal bloom. 

On my wan cheek the colour dies, 
Suffused and languid roll mine eyes; 
Cold horrours thrill each sick'uing vein;. 
Deep broken sighs my bosom strain ; 
The telient pulse of health gives o*er. 
And life and pleasure are no more. 



AN ODE 

^ TO HEALTH. 

MnTREE of all human joys. 
Rosy cheeks, and sparkling eyes; 
In whose train, fur ever gay. 
Smiling Loves and Graces play : 
If complaints thy soul can move, 
Or music charm, the voice of Love ! 
Hither, goddess, ere too late, 
Tum,and stop impending fete. 

Over earth, and sea, <U)d sky. 
Bid thy airy heralds fly ; 
With each balm which Nature 3rieldft 
From the gardens, groves^ and fields,. 
From each flow'r of varied bue. 
From each herb that sips the dew. 
From each tree of fragrant bloom. 
Bid the gales their wings perfume ; 
And, around fair Celia's hea^* 
All the mingled incense shed : 
Till each living sweetness rise, 
Faiot her cheeks, and arm her cyci. 



Mild as ev'nii^'s hnmid^ nXt^ ' 
Yet awfiil as the blaze of day. 

Celia if the fetes restore, 
Love and beauty weep no more : 
But if they snatch the lovely priz*. 
All that's fetr in CeUa dies. 



jIN ODE 



TO A LriTLB CIRt WHOM I HAD OFFXVDf D 7 
WRrTTEtf AT TWELVE YBABf 07 AGE. 

How long shall I attempt in vain 

Thy smiles, my angel, to regain ? 

ril kiss your hand, Til weep, V\\ kneel : \ 

Will nought, fair t3rrant, reconcile ? 

That goldfinch, wiUi her painted wings. 

Which gayly looks, and sweetly smgs; 

That, and if aught I have more fine. 

All, all my charmer, shall be thine. 

When next mamma shall prove severe, 
I'll interpose, and save my dear. 
Soften, my fkir, those angry eyes, 
Nor tear thy heart with broken agfos : 
Think, while that tender breast tbey itrmta. 
For thee what abguish I sustain. 

Should but thy feir companions view. 
How ill that frown becomes thy brow ; 
With fear and grief in ev»ry eye. 
Each would to each, astonish'd, cry, 
" Heav'ns \ where is all her sweetne« flown f 
How strange a figure now she's grown I 
Ron, Nancy, let us run, lest we 
Grow pettish, aukward things, a^ she." 

Tib done, tis done ; my cherub smilef. 
My griefe suspends, my fears beguiles : 
How the qvick pleasure heaves my breast f 
Ah I itiU be kind, and Til be blest I 



TO LESBIA, 

TRAHSLATtO PROM CATtJfXUt.. 

Tho' sour, loquacioos age reprove. 
Let us, my Lesbia, live for love : 
For, whenthe short-Iiv»d suns decline,' 
They but retire more bright to-shine; 
But we, when fleeting life b o'er 
And light and love can bless no mofe^ 
Are ravish'd firom each dear delight. 
To sleep one long eternal night 
Give moiof kisses balmy store, 
Ten thousand, and ten thousand more; 
Still add ten thousand, doubly sweet ; 
The dear, dear number still repeat : 
And, when the sum so high shall swell. 
Scam thought can reach, or toogoe can tell j 
Let ns on kisses kisses crowd. 
Till number sndc hi multittide ; 
Lest our full bliss should limits know. 
And others, nnmb'rtQgk entioos grow. 



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SONGS. 



A TRANSLATION 



195 



OLD SCOTTISH SONG. 

&KI robb*d of all that charm'd my fiew^ 

Of all my soul e'er fancied fiur. 
Ye aailiog natiTe sceoes, adieu ! 

With each delightful olgect ihere. 
Ye rales, which to the raptured eye 

DiKWd the flow'ry pride of Miy ; 
Ye cirdii^ hills, whose summits high 

Blush'd with the morniog's earliest ray : 
"Where, heedless oft how for I strayed. 

And pleas'd my ruin to pursue ; 
I ang my dear, my cruel maid : 

Adieu for ever ! ah ! adieu ! 
Ye dear associates of my breast. 

Whose hearts with ^ecaless somow swell ; 
AttTthoQ, with hoary age opprest. 
Dear author of my life, &rewel I 
fcrme. alas » thy fruiilesa tears, 

fv, fer remote from firiends and home, 
SUl blast thy venerable years. 

And bend thee piniDg to the tomb« 
ftttp are the pangs by nature felt, 

Firom dear relsitioos torn away. 
Yet sharper panga my vitals melt. 
To hopeless love adestin'd prey: 
While she, as angry Heaven and main 
Deaf to the helpless sailor's pray'r, 
Eqoyimy soul-coii'uuiinj: pain. 

And viotOQs with my deep despair. 
fnm cursed gold what ills arise ! 

W^ horrours life's fair prospect stain ! 
"ws blast their friends withr angry eyes. 

And brothen Meed, by brothers slain. 
fc» cursed gold I trace my woe ; " 

Ondd I this splendid mischief buast, 
Kw would my tears nnpitied flow, 

Kbt would my sighs hi air be lost 
Ak 5 when a mother's cruel care 

Non'd me an infant on the breast, 
"•d eariy fate snrpris'd me there. 

And wrapt me in eternal rest : 
Acs bad this breast ne'er leam'd to beat, 
^>d tremble with nnpitied pain ; 
w bad a maid's relentless hate, 

^•tt, er'n in death, deplor'd in ▼afai. 
^^Mn the pleasmg t^k of lore. 
With ev'ry winning art Itry'd 
To QMch the coyly flott'ring dove. 

With killing eyes and plumy pride : 
BsLfiir on nimble pinions borne 

^om fcjreH warm gales and flow'ipy plains, 
*e sought the northern climes of scorn, 

Who* ever«fireezing winter reigns. 
Ak Be ? had Heav'n and she pror'd kind. 

Then fan of age, and free from care, 
Hw West had I my life lesign'd, 

^ffhen fint 1 breath'd this vital air I 
^ since no flatfnog hope remains, 
^ me my wretched lot pursue : 
«*. dear friends, and native scenes. 
To all, bnt grief iiid love, adieu ! 



^ SOKG: 



to TH£ TU-Hi OF THE BRAES OP BALLANDYNE. 

Beneath a green shkde, a lovely young swain. 
One ev'ning reclin'd, to discover his pain : 
So sad, yet so sweetly, he warbled his woe. 
The wiud^ ceas'd to breathe,and ihe fountains to flow: 
Rude winds, with compassion, could hear him 

complain j 
Yet Chloe, less gentle, was deaf to his strain. 
Z^^^ happy," he cry'd, " my moments once flew ! 
Ere Chloe's bright charms first flash'd in my view : 
These eyenthen with pleasure the dawn could survey ; 
Nor smilM the fair morning more cheerful then they: 
Now scenes of distress please only my sight 5 
I'm tortu^d in pleasure, and languish in light. ' 
" Through changes in vain relief I pureue j 
All, all but conspire my griefs to renew : 
From sunshine to zephyrs and shades we repair ; 
To sunshine we fly from too piercing an air: 
But love's ardent fever butns always the same; 
No winter can cool it, no summer inflame. 
" But see ! the pale Moon all clouded retires ; 
The breezes grow cool, not Strepbon's dciires : 
I fly from the dangers of tempest and wind, 
Yet nourish the madness that preys on my mind. 
Ah wretch I how can life thus merit thy care, [pair?" 
Since length'niug its moments, but lengthens d^ 



THE RAVISHED SHEPHERD, 
A SONG. 

Azure dawn, whose cheerful ray 

Bids all Nature's beauties rise. 
Were thy glories doubly gay. 

What art thou to Chloe's eyes ? 
Boast no more thy rosy light, • 

if Chloe smile thee into night. 
Gentle Spring, whose kind return 

Spreads diffusive pleasure round. 
Bids each breast enamour'd bum. 

And each flame with bliss be cruwn'd ; 
Should my Chloe leave the plain. 
Fell winter soon would blast thy reign. » 
Ev'ry charm, whose high delight 

Sense enjuys, or soul admires ; 
All that ardour can excite. 

All excited love requires. 
All that Heav'n or Earth call fair. 
View Chloe's face, and read it there. 



A PASTORAL SONG. 

Sandt, the gay, the bloomii)g swain. 

Had lang frae love been free ; 
Lang made ilk heart tiiafflll'd the plain 

Dance quick with harmless glee. 
As blythsome lambs tbftt scour the green. 

His mind was unconstrain'd ; 
Kae face could ever fix his een, 

Nae sang bis car detam'd* 

.,gitized by Google 



196 



BLACKLOCR'S POEMS. 



AI) ! luckless youth ! ashortliv'djoy 

Thy cruel fotc$ decree ; 
Fell tods shall on thy lambkins prey, 

And love mair fell on thee. 
Twas e*er the Sun exhal'd the dew, 

Ae morn of cheerful May, 
Forth Girzy walk'd, the flow'rs to view, 

A flowV mair sweet than they 1 
Like sunbeams sheen her waving locks ; 

Her een like stars were bright ; 
The rose lent blushes to her obeek ; 

The Kly purest white. 
Jimp was her waist, like some tall pine 

That keeps the woods in awe ; 
Her limbs like iv^ry columns tam'd, 

Her breasts like hills of snaw. 
Her robe aromad her loosely thrown, 

Gave to the shepherd's een 
What fearless innocence would show ; 

The rest was all unseen. 
He 6x^1 his look, he sigh'd, he quakM, 

His culbnr wetlt and came ; 
Dark grew his een, his ears resound. 

His breast was all on flame. 
Nae mair yon glen repeats his sang. 

He jokes and smiles nae mair ; 
Unplaited now his cravat hung, 

Undrest bis chesnut hair. 
To him how hmg the shortest night ! 

How dark the brightest day ! 
Till, with the slow consuming fire» 

His life was worn away. 
Far, fiir frae shepherds and their flocks, 

Opprest with care, he lean'd ; 
And, m a mirky, beachen shade. 

To hills and dales thus plean'd : 
" At length, my wayward heart, return. 

Too far, alas ! astray : 
Say, whence you caught that bitter smart. 

Which works me such decay. 
" Ay me ! Hwas Love, 'twas Girzy 's charms. 

That first began my woes ; 
Could be sae saft, or she sae fair. 

Prove such relentless foes ? 
•• Fierce winter nips the sweetest flower; 

Keen lightning rives the tree j 
Bleak mildew taints the fairest crop. 

And love has blasted me. 
'* Sagacious hounds the foxes chase ; ' 

The tender lambkins they ; 
Lambs follow close their mother ewes. 

And ewes the blooms of May. 
«* Sith a' that live, with a' their might. 

Some dear delight pursue ; 
Cease, ruthless maid ! to scorn the hteart 

That only pants for you. 
" Alas ! for griefc, to htfr onken'd, 

What pity can I gain ? 
And should she ken, yet loVe refuse, 

Could tliat redresi my pain } 
*' Come, Death, my wan, my fipozen brideji 

Ah ! close thoBe wearied eyes : 
But Death the happy, still pursues. 
Still from the wreUbed flics. 



" Could wealth ayail ; what wealth is muie 

Her high-bom mind to bend ? 
Hees are those wide delightful plains, 

And her's the flocks I tend, 
" What tho», whene'er I tun'd my pipe. 

Glad fairies heard the sound. 
And, clad in freshest April green. 

Aft tript the circle round : 
«* Break, laadwaid clown, thy dinsome reed. 

And brag thy kkdl nae mair : 
Qin aUght that gies na Girzy joy, 

Be worth thy lightest care ? 
" Adien ! ye harmless, sportive flocks! 

Who now your lives shall guard ? 
Adieu ! my faithful dog, who oft. 

The pleasing vigil shar'd : 
" Adieu I ye plains, and light, anes sweet. 

Now painful to my view : 
Adieu to life; and thou, mair dear. 

Who caus'd my death ; adieu!" 



^ PASTORAL 
ON THE DEATH OF STELLA. 

mSCRlBBD TO HER SISTEt. 

See on those ruby lips the trembling breath. 
Those cheeks now faded at the blast of death ; 
Cold is that breast which warm'd the world bcfbrc. 
And those lote-darting eyea shall roll no more. 

POFB. 

Now purple ev'ning ting'd the W«e serene. 
And milder breezes ftinn'd the verdant plain ; 
Beneath a blafijted oak's portentous shade. 
To speak his grief, a pensive swain was laid : 
Binis ceas'd to warble at the mournful sound ; 
The UughinjJ landscape sadderfd all a)X>und : 
Jor Stella's fate he breath'd his tuneful moan, 
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darting gone I 

O thou ! by stronger ties than blood ally'd. 
Who dy'd to pleasure, when a sister dy*d » ; 
Thou living image of those charms we lost. 
Charms which exuhing Nature once might boast ! 
Indulge the plaintive Muse, whose simple straiB 
KepeaU the heart-felt anguish of the swam : 
For Stella's fate thus flow'd his tuneful moan. 
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn yonr darling gone ! 

" Are happmess and joy for ever fled. 
Nor haunt the twilight grove, nor sonny glade f 
Ah ! fled for ever from my longing eye ; 
With Stella bom, with Stella too they die : 
Die, or with me your brightest image moan ; 
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darling gone ! 

«* Sweet to the thirsty tongue the chrystal stream. 
To nightly wand'rers sweet the morning beam ; 
Sweet to the witlier»d grass the gentle nhow'r^ 
To the fond lover sweet the nuptial hour ; 
Sweet fragrant gardens to the lab'ring bee, 
And lovely Stella once was Hcav'n to me : 
That Hcav*n is faded, and those joys are flown. 
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darKng gone f 

1 Mrs. M*Culloch, a lady distinguished for cvagr 
personal grace and qualification of mind, which 
could adorn her sex and nature. 



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PASTORALS. 



197 



"Ah ! where is now that form which charni'd my 
fight? 
ik ' where that wisdom, sparkling heav'nly bright ? 
Ab ? where that sweetness like the lays of spring, 
When breathe its flow'rs, and all its warblers sing ? 
Now Me, ye flow're,3re warblers, join my moan ; 
ivve, Beauty, Virtoe, mourn vour darling gone ? 

'*Ahme! tbo* winter desolate the field, 
Apm shall (low'rs their blended odours yield ; 
i|ain shall birds the vernal season hail, 
iad beauty paint, and music charm the vale : 
Bat the 00 more to bless me shall appear ; 
No more her aogel voice enchant my ear ; 
No more her angel smile relieve my moan : 
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn yonr darling gone !" 
He eeas'd ; fbi mighty grief his voice supprest, 
(^U'd all bis veins, and struggled in his breast ; 
Froia his wan cheek the rosy tincture flies ; 
The lustre languished in hb closing eyes : 
Too scoQ shall life retora, unhappy swain ! 
lfi with retomiog sense, returns thy pain, [moan ; 
KHs, woods, and streams, ivammd the shepherd's 
Lsve, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darling gone ! 



/i PASTORAL. 

INSCRIBED TO EUANTHE. 

WiiuT I rehearse unhappy Damon's lays, 
Atvhicb bis fleecy charge forgot to graze. 
With drooping h^ds and griev'd attention, stood, 
Norfriak'd the greon,oor sought the ncighb'rmg flood; 
Eneatial Sweetness ! deign with me to stray. 
Where yon dose shades eicclude the heat of day ; 
Or where yon fountain murmurs soft along. 
Milt with his temrs, and vocal to his song ; 
There hear the sad relation of his fate, 
Md pity aU the pains thy charms create. 

dose b th* adjacent shade, cooceal'd from view, 
I Maid, and beard him thus his griefs pursue. 

" Awake, my BSnie ! the soft Sicilian strain ; 
MiU gleams tbe purple ev'ning o*er the plain ; 
liGM fan the breeaes, mild the waters flow, 
Aad Heav'n and Earth an equal quiet know ; 
With ease the shepherds and their flocks are blest. 
Aid c*^ grief, but mine, consents to rest 

** Awake, my Mose, the soft Sicilian strain ; 
SeiEiB noBibers may delude my pain : 
The thirsty field, wluch-scorchhig heat devours. 
Is ae'er supply'd, tho* Heav'n deKend hi sbow*rs : 
fnm fle(w*r to flowY the bee still plies her wing, 
Of sweeu fawatiate, tho* she drain the spring : 
SdR from thoae eyes love calls their liquid store, 
M, when t^r car ien ts fiiil, still thirsu for more. 

** Awake, my Mose ! the soft Sicilian strain : 
Tet why to ruthless storms should I complain ? 
IM storms mad death itself complaints may move, 
Bat poaas are music to the tyrant Love. 
Love ! tby genios and thy force 1 know, 
Thy bomiag torch, and pestilential bow : 
f (om some fermented tempest of the main, 
At oooe oooimenc'd th^ being, and thy reign ; 
Non'd by fell harpies m some bowKng wood» 
laorM to slaagfaler, and regal*d with blood : 
Kfllcatlesa mischief ! at whose dire command, 
A MlUr staiD'd with fiKal Hood her hand : 



Curst boy ! corst mother I which most impions, say. 
She who could wound » or he who could betray ? 

** Awake,my M'use 1 the hoft Sicilian strain : [tain. 
From love those sighs I breathe, those plagues sus- 
Why did I first Kuanihe's charms admire. 
Bless the soft smart, and fan the growing fire } 
Why, happy still my danger to conceal. 
Could I no ruin fear, till sure to feel ? 
So seeks the swain by night his doubtful way. 
Led by th' insidious meteor's fleeting ray ; 
Still on, attracted by th^ illusive beam, 
He tempts the faithless marsh, or fatal stream : 
Away with scorn the laughing demon files. 
While shades ctf rual seal the wretch's eyes. 

'* Awake, my Muse ! the soft Sicilian strain ; 
Ah ! can nu laai, no darling hop<* remain, f twine. 
Round which my soul wiUi all her strength may 
And, tho* but flatter'd, call the treasure mine ?* 
Wretch I to the charmer's sphere canst thou ascend. 
Or dar'st thou fiincy she to thee will bend ? 
Say, shall the chirping grasshopper assume 
The varied accent, and tiie soaring plume ; 
Or shall that oak, the tallest of his race. 
Stoop to his root, and meet yon shrub's embrace ? 

'* Awake, my <Muse ! the soft Sicilian strain ; 
Those pallid cheeks how long shall sorrow stain ? 
Well I remember, O my soul I too well. 
When in the snare of faite 1 thoughtless fell : 
Languid and sick, she sought the distant shade. 
Where, led by love or destiny, I stray'd : 
There, from the nymphs retired, depressed she lay, 
To unremitting pain a smiling prey : 
Ev'n then I saw her, as an angel, bright ; 
1 saw, 1 lov'd, 1 perishM at the sight ; ^ 

I sighed, I blushM, I gaz'd with fix»d surprise. 
And all my soul hung raptur'd in my eyes. 

«• Forbear, my Muse ! the soft Sicilian strain ; 
Which Heav'n bestows, and art refines, in rain : 
What tho' the Heav'n-bom Muse my temples shade 
With wreaths of fame, and bays that never fade ? 
What tho' the sylvan pow*rs, while I complain. 
Attend my flocks, and patronize my strain ? 
On me my stars, not gifts, but ills bestow. 
And all the change I feel, is change of woe. 

** But see yon rock projected o'er the main. 
Whose giddy prospect turns the gazer's brain : 
Object is lost beneath its vast profound. 
And deep and hoarse below the surges sound : 
Oft, while th' unthinking world is lost in sleep, 
My sable genius tempts me to the steep; 
In fancy's view bids endless horrours move, 
A barren fortune, and a hopeless love, 
Life has no charms for me ; why longer stay ? 
I hear the gloomy mandate, and obey. 
What ! fall the victim of a mean despair. 
And crown the triumph of the cruel fair ? 
No, let me once some conscious merit show. 
And tell the world, I can survive my woe. 

" Forbear, my Muse ! the soft Sicilian strara : 
Fool ! wretched fool ! what firenzy fires thy brain? 
See, chok'd with weeds, thy languid flow'rs recline. 
Thy sheep unguarded, and unprop'd thy vine. 
At length recali'd, to toil thy hands inure. 
Or weave the basket, or the fold secure. 

" What tho' her cheeks a living blush display, ' 
Pure as the dawn of Heav'n's unclouded day; 
Tho' Love from cv'ry glance an arrow wings^ 
And all the Musei warble, when she sings } 



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BLACKLQCK'S POEMS. 



Forbear, my Muse ! the soft Sictlian strain ; 
S<}iDe nymph, as fair, a sprigbtUer note may gain : 
There are who know to prize more genuine charms, 
AVhich genius brightens, and which virtue warms : 
Forbear, my Muse ! the soft Sicilian strain ; 
Some nymph, as fiair, may smile tho' she disdain." 



A PASTORAL ELEGY. 

THE PLAINTIVE SHEPHERD. 

Eheu ! quidvoUii misero mihi ? floribus austrum 
Perditus, et liquidis immisi ibntibus apros. 

ViRC. 

Colin, whose lays the »hepberds all admire. 
For Phoebe long consumed with hopeless fire ; 
Nor durst his tongue the hidden smart convey, 
' Nor tears the torment of his soul betray : 
But to the wildness of the woods he flies. 
And vents his grief in unregarded sighs : 
Ye conscious woods, who still the sound retun. 
Repeat the tuneful sorrows of the swain. 

" And must I perish then, ah cruel maid I 
To early fate, by love of thee, betray 'fl ? 
And can no tender art thy soul subdue. 
Me, dying me, with milder eyes to view ? 
The flow'r that withers in its opening bloom, 
Kobb'd of its charming dyes, and sweet perfume ; 
The tender lamb that prematurely pines, 
And life's untasted joys at once resigns ; v 
For these thy tears in copious tributes flow, 
For these thy bosom heaves with tender woe? 
And canst thou then with tears their fate survey, 
While, blasted by thy coldness, 1 decay ? 

*' And now the swains each to their cots are fled. 
And not a warble echoes thro* the mead ; 
Now to their folds titk panting flocks retreat. 
Scorch 'd with the summer noon^s relentless heat : 
From summer's heat the shades a refuge prove ; 
But what can shield my heart frem fiercer love } 
All-bounteous Nature taught the fertile field 
For all our other ills a balm to yield ; 
But lo\e, the sharpest pang the soul sustains. 
Still cruel love incurable remains. 

" Yet, dear destroyer ! yet my sufferings hear : 
By love's kind look, and pity^s sacred tear. 
By the strong griefs that in my bosom roll. 
By all the native goodness of thy soul, 
Regard my bloom declimng to the grAve, 
And, like eternal Mercy, smile and save. 

" What tho' U9 sounding names ray race adorn. 
Sustained by labour, and obscurely born ; 
With faJrcst flow'rs theJiumble vales are spread. 
While endless tempests beat the mountain's head. 
What tho' by fate no riches are my share ; 
Riches are parents of eternal care ; 
While, in the lowly hut and silent grove, ^ 
Content plays smiling with her sister Love. 
W^hat tho' no native charms my person grace, 
Nor beauty moulds my form, nor paints my face ; 
The sweetest fruit may often pall the taste, 
While sloes and brambles yield a safe repast* 

" Ah ! prompt to hope, forbear thy fruitless strain ; 
Th hopes are frantic, and thy lays are vain* 
Say, can thy song appease the stormy deep 
" lull th' impetuous hurricane asleep ? 



Thy numbers then her ttedfast soul may move, 
And change the purpose of determin'd love* 

" Die, Colin, die, nnr groan with grief oppreik | 
Another image triumphs in her breast } 
Another soon shall call the l^r his own, [crovn. 
And Heav'n and Fate seem pleas'd tiidr wn to 

** Arise, Menalcas, with the dawn arise ; 
For thee thy Phoebe looks with longing eyes ; 
For thee the shepherds, a delighted throng. 
Wake the soft reed, and hymeneal song ; 
For thee the hasty virgins rob the spring. 
And, wrought with care, the nuptial gariaad bring* 

** Arise, Menalcas, with the dawn arise; 
Ev'n time for thee with double swiftness flies : 
Hours urging hours, with all their speed retire. 
To give thy soul whatever it can desire. 

** Yet, when the priest prepares the rites divine, 
And when her trembling hand is clasp'd in thine, 
Let not thy heart too soon indulge its joys ; 
But think on him whom thy delight destroys I 
Thee too he lov'd j to thee his simple heart. 
With easy faith and fondness breath'd its smart: 
So fools their flocks to sanguine wolves resign, 
So trust the cunnine fox to prune the viae. 
Think thou behold'stnim from some gaping woond 
Effuse his soul, and stain with blood the grouad : 
Think, while to earth his pale remains they bear, 
His friends with shrieking sorjnow fnerce thhie ear : 
Or, to some torrent's headloiig rage a prey. 
Think thou behold'st him floating to the Sea. 

** But now the Sun declines his radiant head, 
And rising hills prqject a length'ning shade : 
Again to browze the greeu the flocks return, 
Again the swains to sport, and I to moam : 
I homeward too must beiid my painfiil way. 
Lest old Damoetas sternly chide my stay.*' 



DESIDERIUM LUTETIAE i 

PtOM BUCHANAN, 

AN ALLEGORICAL PASTORAL^ 

IN WHICH BE IBCtETS HU ABSINCB FBOU riUfy 



While far remote, thy swain, dear Chk)e! m^ 
Depriv'd the vital sunshine of thine esres ; 
Seven summer heats already warm tl^ plains; 
In stonns and snow the seventh bleak whiter leigM : 
Yet not seven years revolving sad and slow. 
Nor summer'^ heats, nor winter's storms and snow. 
Can to my soul the smallest ease procure. 
Or free from love and care one tedious hour. 

Thee,when from Heav'n descend the dews of mon, 
To crop the verdant mead when flocks return ; 
Thee, when the Sun has compass'd half his way, 
And darts around unsuflRnrable day ; 
tliee, when the ev'ning, o'er the world displayed. 
From rising hills projects a length'ning shade; 
Thee Mil I s'mg, unweary'd of my theme. 
Source of my song, and object of my flame ! 
Ev'n night, in whose dark bosom Nature laid. 
Appears one blank, one undistinguish'd riiade, 
Ev'n night m vain, with all her hurrtnirs, tries 
To blot thy lovely form from fancy's eyes. 

When short-livM slambers,long invok'd, desoend| 
To sooth each care, and ev'ry sense susprad. 



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PASTORALS. 



199 



?ii]l to ny sight once more thy charms appear ; 

Once Bore my ardent vows salote thine ear ; 

Otoee iBore my anxious aool, awake to bliss, 
Ml, betrs, detains thee io her close embrace : 
biatt*nogf thrilling, gloiring transport tost, 
m MBse itsdf in keen delight is lost. • [scene * 

Rnmb sleep I wake ; bat, oh ! how chaog'd the 
The efaarms iUnsive, and the pleasure vain ! 
ITieday returns ; but ah ! returning day. 
When «T^ grief but min^ admits allay, 
Onthoe tad eyes its glory darts in vain ; 
Itiiight restored, restores my soul to pain. 

The house I fly, impeUM by wild despair. 
As if my griefi) coidd only find me there. 
Lott to the world, thro* lonely fields I rove ; 
Viia w»b ! to fly from destiny and love ! 
fljr waywaid frenzy's restless impulse led, 
liffo' devious wilds, with heedless cour^, I tread : 
The cave remote, the dusky woods explore. 
Where human step was ne'er imprest before : 
Aid, vi& the native accents of despair, 
^tigoe the conscious rocks, and desert air. 
Kind Echo, fsithfal to my plaints alone, 
Sghs all ray sighs, and groans to ev*ry groan. 
The itieams, familiar to the v^ce of woe, 
Etch BMNinrftil sound remnrmur as they flow. 

Ofton some rock distracted I complain, 
Wfaieh hangs projected o*er the ruffled main : 
Oft Tiev the azure surges as they roll, 
Afid to deaf stomas t&tse my frantic soul. 
** Attnd my somiws, O oerulean tide ! ''«' 

Te Uoe-cy'd nymphs that thn/ the billows glide. 
Oh I waft me gently o*er your rough domain ; 
Let me at length my darling coast attain : 
Or, if my wishes thus too much implore, 
Aipvreck'd and gaspmg let me reach the shore. 
While wash'd aloDg the floods I hold my way, 
Tb es^ wind and ev*ry wave a-prey, 
I>mr hope and love shall bear my struggling frame. 
And unestiBgBsbM keep the vital flame.*' 

Oft to the hastening zephyrs have I said : 
Too, happy gales 1 shall fan my lovely maid. 
So nay no poin t ed rocks your wings deform ; 
So may your speedy journey meet no storm. 
As soft yoa whisper round my hea;r'nly fisir, 
fhy 00 her breast, or wanton with her hair ; 
Faitfafal to love, the tender message bear. 
And breathe my endless s orro w s in her ear.'* 

How oft roo^ Bums have I askM in vain ! 
As with swift wings he brush'd the foamy.maio : 
" Blest wind ! who late my distant charmer viewM, 
Stjf has her soal no other wish pursued * 
With mmnal fire, say, does her bosom glow ; 
Feels she my wound, and pities she my woe ?** 

Heedless of all my tears, and all I say. 
The winds, with blustVing fury, wing their way. 
A freezing barrour, and a chillmg pain, 
ftoots thro* my heart, and stagnates ev'ry vein. 
Ko meal pleasures yield my soul relief ; 
I^ melting shepherd's pipe consoles my grief: 
The choral nymphs, that dancing cheer the plain. 
And Famv, tho* swoet their song, yet sing in vain. 
Brnf to tiie voice of joy, my tortur*d mnid 
Gn only room for love and anguish finc^ : 
By tbest my soul and all its wishes caught, 
Cia to no other object yield a thought. 
^ Lyeasca, ridMbl with her lyre to move 

r wid^ and melt tba soul to love : 



Melaenis too, with cv'iy sweetness crownM, 
By Nature form*d with ev*ry glance to wound : 
With emulation both my love punme, 
And both, with winning arts, my passion woo. 
The freshest bloom of youth their cheeks display ; 
Their eyes arc armM with beauty's keenest ray ; 
Av*rice itself might count their fleecy store, 
(A prize beyond its wish !) and pant no more. 

Me oft their dow'rs each genVous sire has told. 
An hundred playful younglings from the fold. 
Each with its dam ; their mothers promise more, 
Aud oft, and long, with secret gifts, implore. 
Me nor an hundred! playful younglings move. 
Each with its dam ; nor wealth can bribe my love ; 
Nor all the griefs th* imploring mothers show ; 
Nor all the secret gifts they would bestow ; 
Nor all the tender things the nymphs can say ; 
Nor all the soft desires the nymphs betray. 

As winter to the spring in beauty yields. 
Languor fo health, and rocks to verdant fields ; 
As the fair virgin's cheek, with rosy dye 
Blushing delight, with lightning arm'd her eye. 
Beyond her mother's faded form appears, 
Mark'd with the wrinkles and the snow of years ; 
As beauteous Tweed, and wealth-importing Thames 
Flow each the envy of their country's streams . 
So, loveliest of her sex, my heav'niy maid 
Appears, and all their fainter glories fade. 

Melaenis, whom love's soft enchantments arm. 
Replete with charms, and conscious of each charm. 
Oft on the glassy stream, with Mptur'd eyes. 
Surveys her form in mimic sweetness rise ; 
Oft, as the waters pleas'd reflect her face. 
Adjusts her locks, and heightens ev'ry grace : 
Oft thus she tries, with all her tuneful art. 
To reach the soft accesses of my heart. 
** Unhappy swain, whose wishes fondly stray. 
To slow-consuming fruitless fires a prey ! 
Say, will those sighs and tears fur ever flow 
In hopeless torment, and determin'd woe ? 
Our fields, by Nature's bounty blest, as thine. 
The mellow apple yield, and purple vine ; 
Those too thou lov'st; their free enjoyment share. 
Nor plant vain tedious hopes, and reap despair." 

Me oft Lycisca, in the festive train. 
Views as she lightly bounds along the plain : 
Straight, with dissembled scorn, away she flies ; 
Yet still on me obliquely turns her eyes : 
While, to the music of her trembling strings. 
Amidst the dance sweet warbling, thus she sings: 
** No tears the just revenge of Heav'n can move; 
Heav'n's just revenge will pnnish slighted love 
I've seen a huntsman, active as the mom. 
Salute her earliest blush with sounding horn ; 
Pursue the bounding stag with op'iiing cries. 
And slight the timid hare, his easy prize : 
Then, with the setting Sun, his houads restrain ; 
Nor bounding stag, nor timid hare obtain. 
I've seen the sportsman latent nets display, 
To catch the feather'd, warblers of the spray ; 
Despise the fineh tbatflutter'd round in air. 
And oourt the sweeter linnet to his snare : 
Yet weary, cold, successless, leave the plain ; 
Nor painted finch, nor sweeter linnet, gain. 
I've seen a youth the polish'd pipe admire. 
And sorn the simple reed the'swains inspire : 
The simple reed yet cheers each tuneful swain j 
White still onblest the sebmer pines in vaio. 



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BLACKLOCK'5 POEMS. 



2W 

Thus ri<?hteous *Icav'n ch^lifles wanton pride. 
And bids mtemp^rate insolence subside." [pa»n. 
Thus breathe the am'rous nymphs their fruitless 
In ears impervious to the softest strain. 
But first with trembling lambs the wolf sliall graze; 
First hawks with linnets join in social lays; 
First shall the fger's sanguine thirst expire. 
And timorous fawns the lion fierce admire } 
Ere, witb her lute Lycisca Uught to charm. 
This dcstiuM heart ere soft Melaenis warm. 
First shall the finny nation leave the flood. 
Shadows the hills, and birds the vocal wood j 
The winds shall cease to breathe, the strcaaas to flow; 
Ere my de«res another object know. 
This infant bosom, yet in lore untaught. 
From Chloe fibt the pleasing ardour caught i 
Chloe shall still ito faithful enjpire claim. 
Its first ambition, and ite latest aim ! 
Till ev*ry wish and ev*ry hope be o'er, 
And life and love ixjspiic my frame no mort. 



PBILANTUESt 



MONODY. 

IHSCRIBED TO M18B D— Y H YJ 

Occasioned by a series of intcrestin?: events which 
happened at Dumfries on Friday, June 12, 1752, 
particularly that of her fitther's deaih. 

Quis desiderio sit pudor, aut modus 
Tam chari capitis ? Pnecipe Uigubres 
Cant us Melpomene, cui liquidam pater 
Vocem cum cithaia dcdit. Hoiat. 

ARCUMBirr. 

The subject proposed.— Address to Miss H y. 

— General reflections inspir'd by the subject, and 
previous to it. — ^Tlie scene opens with a prospect 
of Mrs. M— -n*s funeral solemnity : and changes 
to the untimely fate of a beautiful youth, son to 
Mr. J— -s H— -U, whose early genius, quick 
progress in learning, and gentle dispositions, in- 
spired his friends, with the highest expectations 
of his riper attainments. — Transition to the death 

uf Dr. J s H y, physician : his character 

as such : the general sorrow occasioned by his 
fate : his character as a friend, as particulariy 
4qualificd to sooth distress; as a gentleman; as 
an husband ; as a father : his loss considered in 
All these relations, particularly as sustained by 

-^i^ H: y : her tender care of him during his 

sickness described.— The piece concludes with ao 
Apotheosis, in imiution of Virgil's Daphnis. 

A swAiTt, whose soul the taneftil nine iniame. 
As to his western goal the Sun declia'd. 

Sung to the list'ning shades no common theme ; 
%Vhile the hoarse breathings of the hollow wind. 
And deep resounSng surge in concert joinU 
Deep was the sarge, and de^p the plaintive song, 
lif^hile all the sokmo iixi^ 'm m^le Attentiop 



Nor thou, fair victim of to just a woe ! 
Tho' sUll ihe pan^ of nature swell thy heart. 
Disdain tlie faitbtul Muse ; whose nuiubeis flov 
Sacred; alas ! to sympathetic sooart : 
For in tby-ggriefB the Muses claim a part ; 
Tis all they can, in social tears to mourn, [rarn. 
And deck with cypress wreaths thy dear pateroal 
The swain began, while conscious echoes round 
Protract to sadder length bis doleful lay. 
Roll on, ye streams, in cadence more profound : 
Ye humid vapours, veil the face of day : 

O'er all the mournful plain 

Let night and sorrow reign : 
For Pan » indignant from his fields retires, 

Once haunts of gay delight ; 

Now ef erv sense they fright, [ires. 

Resound with shneks of woe, and blaze with fwi'ial 

What tho* the radiant Sun and clement sky 
Alternate warmth and showers dispense below; 
Tho' spring presages to the careful eye. 
That autumn copious with her fruits shall glow } 
For us in vain her choicest blessings flow : 

To case the bleeding heart, alas I in vain [grain. 

Rich swclU the purple grape, or waves the goUea 
What tammer-bfeeEe, on swiftest pinions borne, 
From fate's relentless hand iu prey can save } 
What snn m Death's dark regions wake the mom, 
Or warm the ooldiecessas of the grave? [beave 
Ah wretched man I whose breast mmce Isams to 

V^lth kindling life ; when, ere thy bod is Mown, 

Btemal winter breathes, and all iU sweets are 
gone. 
Thou all-enlivening flame, intensely bright ! 
Whose sacred beams illume each wandering sphere. 
That thro' high Heav'n reflects thy trembling light. 
Conducting round this globe the varied year ; 
As thou pursu'st thy way. 
Let this revolving day, 
Deep-ting'd w'lih conscious gloom, roll slow ak>og: 
In sable pomp array'd, 
Let uiglit diflfuse her shade, [throng. 

Nor sport the checricss hind, nor chant the vocal 

Scaree, from the ardour of the mid-day gleun, 
Had languid nature in the cool reipir»d ; 
Scarce, by the marghi of the Silver stream, 
Vaint sung ^e birds in verdant shades retir*d; 
Scarce, o*er tho thirsty fieW with sun-shine ftr'd. 
Had ev>nhig gales the sportive wing euay'd, 
When soands of hopeless woe the sUeot scene 
invade. 
Sophronia, long for ev'iy virtue dear 
That grac'd the wife, the mother, or the friend, 
Deprived of life, now pressVl the moumfiil bicy, 
In sad procession to the tomb sustain'd. 
Ah me ! in vain to Heav'n and Karth compWn'cf 
With tender cries her nnm'rous orphan train ; ^ 
The tears of wedded love prof^ise were shed in 
vain. 
For her, was grief on ev*ry face impress'd ; 
For her, each bosom heav'd with tender sighs t 
An husband late with all her virtues bless'd» 
And weeping race in sad ideas rise : 
Fbr her depress'd and pale. 
Your charms, yc Graces, veil, 

1 God of Arcadia, who peooliarly preiidei ofcr 
loraliifie. 



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PHIIANTHES: A MONODY. 



Ml 



Wteali adon vat OMt yo«r dMef dcUfki : 
Ye ViftiMi, aU deplore 
Yflur iowge, mom no nore, [night 

Aad HyMB, < qneacfa thy toroh in teais and eodleti 
y« yet thcK dismal prospects disappear 
Wtet o'er the veeping plain new borroura rise, 
Aad loader aooeots pieroe each frighted ear, 
Aoceoti of frief imbittcr'd by surprise ! 
Fiantic with woe, at once the tumnlt fliet, 
lb natch Adoiois wasb'd akmg the streani, 
Aod ali th* cateoded bank le-ecboes to hit name. 

Batf^d OD the brink the veeping matrons stand. 
The lorely wreck of fbrlune to survey, 
Wbileo*er the flo«d ht^ wav'd his beauteoot hand. 
Or io coovaUiTe anguish straggling lay. 
By slow de^retA lb<?y TiewM his force decay, 
hi firuiUess efforts to regain the shore : 
ney TiewM and moaniM his £&te : O Uea?en ! 
they could no more. 

Ye Naiads ', guardians of the fatal flood. 
Was beauty, sweetneat, youth, no more yonr care ? 
Fbr beauty, sweetness, youth, your pity wooM, 
hwMiil to charm, if £ate could learn to spare. 

Stretcb*d on cold earth he Ues ; 

While, in his closiug eyes, 
Xoaore the heav^n-illumin'd lustre sbioes| 

Hl^ cheek, once Nature's pride. 

With biootriing roses dy'd, 
To onreknting fate iu opUng blush 



Dear hapless yooth ! what felt thy mother's heart, 
Whea ia her view thy lifelets form was laid ? 
Stch angD-sh when the soul and body part, * 
Ssch agQoisiBg pangs the frame inTade. 
** Wasthera no band," she cry*d, •« my child toaid ? 
CoaU Heav'n and Earth nnraor'd his fall survey, 
Nor iiwntfa' ins a tiatt wavet redeem Uietr lovely 
piey? 

" Did I for this my tend'rest cares employ. 
To Bonnsh and improve thy early bloom ? 
Aft all my ri^ng hopes, my promis'd joy, 
^^tect ia death's inexorable gloom ? 
^ mm shall life those Med charms relume, 

Iku rip*onig tweetnets ! sank no more to rim ! 

Thee Kitorc moimiB, like me, with food maternal 

" Vortone and lifle, your gifh how insecure ! 
Eov Cur you promise ! btit bow ill perform ! 
Ute tender fruit, they perish premature, fstorm. 
^eoech^ by the beam, or whelm'd beneath the 

For tbee a firte more kind, 

IV mother^ hopes assigned, 
Tba tbas to sink in eaHy youth dcplor'd : 

Bat late thoa fied'st my siglk. 

Thy parent's dear deligbt ! [stor'd ?'* 

^ ait thoa to my aittt, ah ! art thta thns re- 
Seme these ilk; yet heavier still impend, 
Th«aeiind with livelier grief the smarting ton] ; 
K «« the loog-coneeted storm deacead, 
^■^hgbtanigs flash, and th«mder shakes the pole ; 
^"^cttkooa, solemn, bud its mormurs roll : 
^^WtfetmUtefiibiQCtAeM the tvemUing himl 
Vitas itatrmn threat tlwlabtma of maalfmrl. 



'Godof 



^Usfti 



For scaroe the bitttr aigh aad daap'aiog gman 
In fainter cadence died away in air. 
When, lo ! by late a deadlier shaft was thrown. 
Which open*d ev*ry source of deep despair : 
As yet our aouls those recent sorrows share. 
Swift from th' adjacent field Menalcas fliet, 
Wh'de grief tmpdt hit tteps; aad tears bedew hit 
eyes. 

" Weep OB," he cry>d, *< let teart nomeatnreknew ; 
Hence from thote fieldt let pleasure wing her way : 
Ye thadet, be hallow'd from thit hour to woe: 
No more with summer's pride, ye meads, ha gay. 

Abl why, with twettoett crown'd. 

Should snmmer tmile around ? 
Philanthes now is ndmber'd with the dead t 

Young Health, all drown'd in tears, 

A tivid paleness wears ; 
Dim are her radiant eyet, and all her rotet fede. 
" Him bright Hygeta *, in life's early daw*. 
Thro' Nature's &v'rite walks with transport led. 
Thro' woods umbrageoos, or the op'ning lawn. 
Or where fresh fountains lave the flow'ry mead : 
Their summer's treasures to his view display'd 
What herbs and flow'rs salubrious juice bestow. 
Along the lowly vale, or monotain's arduous brow. 

'* The paralytic nerve hit art confess'd, 
Quick-'paoting asthma, and conanroptioii pale : 
Corrosive pain he eoften'd mto rett. 
And bode the fisver's rage no more prevmlL 
Unhappy art ! decreed at last to &il. 
Why linger'd then thy salutary pow'r. 
Nor from a life so dear repell'd the destin'd hour? 

" Your griefi^ O love and friendUiip, how severe ! 
When high to Heav'n his toul pnrsird her flighty 
Your movmg plaints still vibrate on my ear. 
Still the sad virion swims before my tight. 

O'er all the mourtifiil scene. 

Inconsolable pain. 
In ev'ry various form, appear'd express'd : 
\ The tear-distilling eye. 

The long, deep, broken sigh, [breast. 

Dittolv'd eai^h tender soul, an^ heav'd in ev'ry 

** Such were their woes, and oh ! how just, how dne! 
What tears could eqnal such immense distress } 
Time, ccrre of lighter ills, must oiin renew. 
And yean the tense of what we lose mcreaae. 
From 'whom shall now the wretched hope redrest } 
Religion where a nobler sabject find. 
So favour'd of the skies, so dear to human kind ? 
" Fair Friendship, smiling oh his natal hoar. 
The babe selected in her sacred train ; 
She bade him round diffusive blessings show'r. 
And in his busom flx'd her fav'rite fane. 
In glory thence how long, yet how serene. 
Her vital iofiueoce spreads its chaering rajrt I 
Worth felt the stoial boam, and rip6o*d ia tha 



** Aa hicid ttraamt refre^ the tmilinf plain, 
Op'ning the flow'n that on their borders grow ; 
As grateful to the herb, detoeoding rain. 
That thriak and wither'd ia the tolar glow s 

So, when hit voice was heard. 

Affliction disappear'd ; 

« DNghterof&oalapiiii^ and goddett of iMtMi. 

Digitized by VjOOQ IC 



S02 



BLACKLOCK'S' POEMS. 



Pleasure with raviah'd een imbibed the looiid ; 
Grief with its sweetness soothed, 
Each cloudy feature smoothM/ 

And erer-waking care forgot th' eternal woand. 

'* Such elegance of taste, such graceful ease, 
Infus'd by Heav'n, thro* fll his manners 8b<»e ; 
In him it seem'd to join whatever oould please, # 
And plan the full perfection from its own : 
He other fields and other swains had known. 
Gentle as those of oM by Phoebus ^ taught. 
When poUsh'd with his lute, like him they spakB 
and thought. 

*' Thus form'df alike to bless, and to be bless'd, 
Such heavenly graces kindred graces found ; 
Her gentle turn the same, the same her taste. 
With equal worth, and equal canoour crown'd : 
Long may she search creation's ample round, 
lie joys of such a friendship to explore j 
But, once in him expir'd, to joy she lives no more. 

*' As Nature to her works supremely khid. 
His tender soul with all the parent glow'd. 
On all his race, his goodness unconfinM, 
One taW exhaustless stream of fbndness flow'd ; 

Pleas'd as each genius rose 

New prospects to disclose, 
To ibrm the mind, and raise its gen'roos aim ; 

His tbougbts,|with Tirtue warm'd^ 

At once inspbr'd and charm'd ; [flame. 

His looks, his words, bis smiles transfused the sacred 

** Say ye, whose minds for long revolving years 
The joys of sweet society have known. 
Whose mutual fbndness ev^ry hour endears, [one; 
Whose pains, whose pleasures, and whose souls are 
O ! say, for you can judge, and you alone. 

What anguish pierced bb widow'd consort's heart, 

When from her dearer self for ever doom*d to 
part. 
** His children to the scene of death repair, 
While more than filial sorrow bathes their eyes ; 
His smiles indulgent, his paternal care, 
In sadly-pleasing recollection rise : 
Bat yonng Dorinda, with distinguished sighs. 

Effusing all her soul in soft regret, [father's fate. 

Seems, while she mourns his loss, to share a 

•* Whether the day its wonted course rcnew'd. 
Or midnight vigils wrapt the world in shade. 
Her tender task assiduous she pursu'd. 
To iooth his anguish, or his wants to aid ; 

To s^ten eWry pain. 

The meaning look explain. 
And scan the forming wish 'ere yet expressed: 

The dying fa&er smil'd 

With fondness on his child, [bless'd. 

And when his tongue was mute, his eyes her goodness 

** At length, fair mourner ! cease thy rising woe : 
Iti object still surviving seeks the skies. 
Where brighter suns in happier clhnates glow. 
And ampler scenes with heighfuing charms surprise: 
There perfect life thy much lov'd sire enjoys, 
The life of gods, exempt from grief and pain. 
Where in immortal breasts immortal trauports 
reign. 

B He was said to polbh the swains, when in re- 
^wnge for fbrghig the bolt which killed his son, he 
•lew the Cydopsy and was doom'd to keep the flodn 
of Admetus. 



" Ye moummg iwaJm, your load oomplarots for. 
Still he, the genius of our green retreat, [besrj 
Shall with benignant care our labours cheer, 
And banish &r each shock of adverse fate ; 
Mild suns and gentle flow'rs on spring shall wait. 
His hand with ev'ry fruit shall autumn store : 
In Heav'n your psitron reigns, ye shepherds weep 
no more. 

" Henceforth his pow'r shall with your lares « jein. 
To bid your oots with peace and pleasure smile; 
To bid d'uease and languor cease to pine. 
And fair abundance crown each rural toil : 

While birds their lays resume, 

And spring her annual bloom, 
Let verdant wreaths his sacred tomb adorn ; 

To him, each rising day 

Devout libations pay : 
In Heav'n your patron reigns, no more^ ye ihep- 
herds,*moum." 



THE WISH: AN ELEGY. 

TO UIUNIA. 

Felices ter, et amplius, 

Quos imipta tenet copula,' nee malis 
Divulsus querimoniis 
I Suprema citius solvet amor die. Hor. 

Let others travel, with incessant pain. 

The wealth of earth and ocean to secure ; 
Then, with fond hopes, caress the precious bone ; 

In grandeur abject, and in afflueooe poor. 
But soon, too soon, in fancy's timid eyes. 

Wild waves shall roll, and ccmflagratioas ipreadj 
While bright in arms, and of gigantic size,* 

The fear-fbrm'd robber haunts the thoray bed. 

Let me, in dreadless poverty retir'd. 

The real joys of life, unenvied, share : 
Favoured by love, and by the Muse inspir'd, 

I'll yield to wealth its jealousy and care. 
On rising ground, the prospect to conmiand, 

Unting'd with smoke, where vernal breezes bhiw, 
In rural neatness let my cottage stand ; 

Here wave a wood, and there a river flow. 
Oft from the neighb'ring hilis and pastures round, 

Let sheep with tender bleat salute my ear ; 
Nor fox insidious haunt the guiltless ground. 

Nor man pursue the trade of murder near : 
Far hence, kind Heav'n ! expel the savage train, 

Inur'd to blood, and eager to destroy ; 
Who pointed steel with recent slaughter stain. 

And place in groans and death their cruel joy. 
Ye pow'rs of social life and tender song I 

To yon devoted shall- my fields remain ; 
Here undisturb'd the peaceful day prolong. 

Nor own a smart but k>ve's delightful pain. 
For yon, my trees shall wave their leafy shade | 

For you, my gardens tinge the lenient ah* ; 
For you, be autumn's blushmg gifts display'd, 

And all that Nature yields of sweet or fiur. 
But, O ! if plaints, which love and grief io^re, 

In heav'nly breasts oould e'er compassion find, 
Grant me, ah ! grant my heart's supreme desiit, 

And teach my dear Urania to be kind. 



*I>om( 

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fgle 



ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MR. POPE. 



203 



For ber, bbck mbtea elonds my brightest day ; 

For her, in temn the midnigbt vigils roll ; 
For ha, cold borrours melt my powers awmy, 

Aai cfafll tbe Ihriog Tigoor oip my soul. 

fieaeith her scorn each yoothfal ardour dies, . 

bs joys, its wishes, and its hopes, expire ; 
b TsiB tbe fields of science tempt my eyes ; 

h vain for me tbe Moses string the lyre. 

0! let her oft my hamble dwelling grace, 
Homblt no more, if there she deign to shine; 

For Hear^ unlimited by time or place, 
Stin waits on god-Uke worth and charms dirine. 

Anud the cooling firvgrance of the mom, 
Bam sweet with her thro* lonely fields to stray ! 

fier charms tbe loveliest landscape shall 'adorn, 
Aad add new glories to the rising day. 

Wid^ ber, all nature shines in heightened bloom ; 

The nher stream in sweeter music flows ; 
Odnn more rich the fanning gales perfume ; 

Aad deeper tinctores paint the spreading roue. 

With ber, tbe shades of night their borrours lose, 
hi deepest alenoe charms if she be by ; 

Her voice the music of the dawn renews, 
lb hssbent radiance sparkles in her eye. 

How sweet, with her, in wisdom*8 calm recess, 
To brigbten soft de^e with wit refin'd ? 

tad Natore's Uws with sacred Ashley trace, 
Aad riew the fiurest features of the mind ! 

Or borne on Bfiltoo^s flight, as Heav'n sublime, 
View its full blaze in open prospect glow; 

Boi the first pair in Eden's happy clime. 
Or drop the bmnsn tear lor endless woe. 

iai vbcB, in virtiie and in peace grown old, 
Koifts the languid lamp of life restore ; 

Ber let Bie gra^ with bacKls convulsed and cold. 
Till er*ry nerve relax 'd can hold no more : 

l«f, long on her my dying eyes suspend, 
ni the last beam shall vibrate on my sight ; 

T^ *ou where only greater jojrs attend, 
Aai bear ber image to eternal light. 

Fond iBan, ah I whither would thy fancy rove ? 

Ta thme to languish in unpitied smart i 
'l^thiac,alas! eternal scorn to prove, « 

KorfedooegliMm of comfort wann thy heart. 

^ if my fiur thia cruel law impose, 
Pfest'di, to her will I all my soul resign ; 

To vab beneath the burden of my woes, , 
Oi tiok in death, nor at my hie repine. 

Tttvben, with woes unmingled and smcere, 
Toeartb*s cohl womb in silence I descend ; 

I't her, to grace my obsequies, appear, 
^ with tbe weeping throng her sorrows blend. 

^- BO ; be all her hours with pleasure crown'd, 
^d all ber sonl from ev'ry anguish free : 
"^•U Biy sad €ate that gentle bosom wound, 
^ jofi of Heav^ would be 00 joyi to me. 



ON THE DEATH OF MR. POPE. 

AN ELECT. 

Poets theaiselves must fall, like those they sung ; 
Deaf tbe prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue; 
Ev'n he, whose soul, now melts in mournful lays. 
Shall shortly want the generous tear he pa3rs. 

Pope's Unfortunate Lady. 

While yet I scarce awake from dumb surprise. 
And tepid streams profusely bathe my eyes ; 
While soul-dissolving sighs my bosom strain. 
And all my being sinks oppressed with pain ; 
Deign you, whose souls, like mine, are formed toknow 
The nice poetic sense of bliss and woe ; 
To these sad accents deign a pitying ear: 
Strong be our sorrow, as the cause severe. 

Pope, what tears thy obsequies attend ! 
Britain a bard deplores, mankind a friend : 
For thee, tbeir darling, weep th' Aonian choir. 
Mute the soft voice, unstrung tbe tuneful lyre : 
For thee, the virtuous and tbe sage shall mourn. 
And virgin sorrows bathe thy sacred urn : 

One veil of grief o'er Heav'n and Earth be thrown^ 
And Vice and Envy flaunt in smiles alone. 
Erewhile depress'd in abject dust they lay. 
Nor with their hideous forms affronted day; 
While thy great genius, in their tortur'd sight, 
Plac'd Truth and Virtue cloth*d with heavenly light: 
Now pleasM, to open sunshine they return. 
And o'er the fate exult which others mourn. 

Ah me ! far other thoughts my soul inspire ; 
Far other accents breathes the plaintive lyre : 
Thee, tbo' the Muses bless'd with all their art ; 
And poor'd their sacred raptures on thy hearty 
Tbo' thy lov'd Virtue, with a mother's pain. 
Deplores thy fate, alas ! deplores in vain ? 
Silent and pale thy tuneful frame remains ; 
Death seals thy sight, and freezes in thy veins : 
" Cold is that breast, which warm'd the world be- 
fore, [more." 
And that heav'n -prompted tongue shall charm no 

Whom next shall Heav'n to share thy honours 
chuse; 
Whom consecrate to virtue and the Muse ; 
The Muse, by fate's eternal plan design'd 
To light, exalt, and humanize the mind ; 
To bid kind pity melt, just anger glow ; 
To kindle joy, or prompt the sighs of woe ; 
To shake with horrour. rack with tender smart. 
And touch the finest springs that move the heart* 

Curst he ■ ! who, without ecstasy sincere. 
The poet's soul efius'd in sung can hear: 
His aid in vain shall indigence require; 
Unmov'd he views his dearest friends expire : 
Nature and Nature's God that wretch detest; 
Unsought his friendship, and bis days unblest : 
Hell's masy firauds deep in his bosom roll. 
And all her gloom hangs heavy on his soul. 

1 What we call poetical genius, depends entirely 
on the quickness of moral feeling : be, therefore, 
who cannot feel poetry, must either have his aflfec- 
tioos and internal senses depraved by vice,or be natu- 
rally insensible of the pleasures resulUng from the 
exercise of them. Bnt thu natural insensihility is 
almost never so groit in any heart, as entirely to 
hhider the impression of welUpainted pawoo, or 
natural images coonacted with it 



Digitized by VjOOQ IC 



904 



BUCKLOCK'S POE&IS. 



A9 wb«n the Sun begins fats eastern way, 
To bless the nations with returning day, 
Croum'd with unfading splendour, on he flies ; 
Reveals the world, and kindles all the skies : 
The prostrate East the radiant god adore ; 
So, Pope, we view*d thee, but must view no more. 
Thee angels late beheld, with mate surprise, 
Obw with their themes, and to their accents rise; 
They view'd with wonder thy unbounded aim. 
To trace the mazes of th' eternal scheme: 
But Heav'n those scenes to human view deoieSy 
Those scenes impervious to celestial eyes : 
Whoever attempts the path, shall lose his way. 
And, wrapt in ni^t, thro* endless errour stray* 

In thee what talent shall we most admire; 
The entices judgment, or the poet's fire ? 
Alike, in both, to glory is thy claim ; 
Thine Aristotle's taste, and Homer's flame. 

Arm'd with impartial satire, when thy Muse 
Triumphant Vice with all her rage pursues; 
To Hell's dread gloom the monster scours away, 
Fwc from the haunts of men, and scenes of day : 
There, curst and cursing, racked with raging woe, 
Shakes with incessant howls the realms l^low. 
But soon, too soon, the fiend to light shall rise ; 
Her steps the Earth scarce bound, her head the 
Till his red terrours J<^e again display, [skies ; 
Assert bis laws, and vindicate his sway. 

When Ovid's song bewails the Lesbian ^r. 
Her slighted passion, and intense despair ; 
By thee improv'd, in each soul-moving line, 
Kot Ovid*s wit, but ;^ppho*s sorrows shine. 
When Eloisa mourns her hapless fate, 
What heart can cease with all her pangs to beat ! 

While pointed wit, with flowing numbers graced. 
Excites the laugh, ev'n in the guilty breast; 
The gaudy coxcomb, and the fickle fair, 
Shall dread tlic satire of thy ravisb'd hair. 

Not the Sicilian ^ breath'd a sweeter song. 
While Arelhusa, charm'd and listening, hung; 
From whom each Muse, from her dear seat retir'd, 
His flocks protected, and himself inspired : 
Nor he 3 who sung, while sorrow fiU'd th$ plain. 
How Cytherea moum'd Adonis slain ; 
Nor Tityrus *, who, in immortal lays. 
Taught Mantua's echoes Galatea's praise. 
No more let Mantua boast unrival'd fame ; 
Thy Windsor now shall equal honours claim : 
Eternal fragrance shall each breeze perfume. 
And in each grove eternal verdure bloom. 

Ye tuneful shepherds, and ye beauteous maids, 
From fair Ladona's banks, and Windsor's shades, 
Whose souls in transport melted at his song. 
Soft as your sighs, and as your wishes strong ; 
O come ! your copious annual tributes bring, 
The full luxuriance of the rifled spring; 
Strip various Nature of each fairest flwv'r. 
And on his tomb the gay profusion show'r* 
Let long-liv'd pansies here their scents bestow. 
The violets languish, and the roses glow ; 
In yeUow glory let the crocus shine, 
Narcissus here his love-sick head reclhie ; 
Here hyacinths in purple sweetjMss rise. 
And tulips ttng'd with beauty's fairest dyes. 

Who shall succeed thy worth, O darling nram ! 
Attempt thy reeds, or emulate thy strain ? 
Each painted warbler of the vocal grove 
laments thy^ fote, oniDhMlfiil of hb love : 



* Theocritus. 



^BioD. 



» Virgil. 



Thee, thee the breezes, thee the ^ntaias moani» 
And solemn moans responsive rpcks return ; 
Shepherds and flocks protract the doleful soood, 
And nought is heard but mingled plaints around. 

When first Calliope thy fall surrey'd, 
Immortal tears Ker eyes profusely shed ; 
Her pow'rless hand the tonefiil harp resign^; 
The conscious harp her grieft, low-monn'riof, 

join'd ; 
Her voice in trembling cadence dy'd away. 
And, lost in anguish, all the goddess Isy. 
Such pangs she felt, when, firom the realms of Hglit, 
The fistes, in Homer, ravish'd her delight : 
To thee her sacred hand consign'd his lyre, 
And in thy bosom kindled all his fire : 
Hence, in our tongue, his glorious labours drot, 
Breathe all the god that warm'd their aotbor^ 
breast 

When horrid war mforms the sacred page, 
And men and gods with mutual wrath engage. 
The clash of arms, the trumpet's awful sound. 
And groans and clamours shake the moantsim 

round; 
The nations rock, Earth *s solid bases groan, , 

And quake Heav*n's arches to th' etenial throne. 

When Eolus dilates the lawless wind, 
O'er Nature's face to revel unoonfin'd. 
Bend Heav'n's blue concave, sweep the fruitful plsia, 
Tear up the forest, and inrage the main ; 
In horrid native pomp the tempests shine, 
Ferment, and rciar, and aestuate in each line. 

When Sisyphus, with many a weary groan, 
Rolls up the hill the still-revolving stone ; 
The loaded line, like it, seems to recoil, 
Strains his bent nerves, and heaves with his full toil : 
But, when resulting rapid ftom its height, 
Precipitate the numbers emulate the flight 

As when creative Energy, employ'd. 
With various beings fill'd the boundless void ; 
With deep survey th' onmiscient Parent view'd 
The mighty fabric, and confeas'd it good ; 
He view'd, exulting with immense delij^ht. 
The lovely transcript, as th' idea, bnght: 
So swcU'd the bard ^ with ecstasy divine, 
When full and finisk'd rose his bright d^go ; 
So, from the Elysian bow'rs, he joy'd to see 
All his immortal self reviv'd hi the6. 
While hmc enjoys thy cooiecrsted fane. 
First of th' inspir'd, with hitn for ever reign ; 
With his, eaoh distant age shall rank thy naiBC, 
And ev'n reluctant Envy hiss acclaim. 

But, ah I blind fhte will no distinction know ; 
Swift down the torrent all alike Qiust flow ; 
Wit, virtue, leammg, are alike ra prey; 
All, all must tread th* irremeable way. 

No more food wishes in my breEast shall roll, 
Distend my heart, and kindle aU my soul. 
To breathe my honest raptures in thy ear, 
And feel thy kindness w returns sincere ; 
Thy art, I hop'd, should teach the Muse to sing, 
Difeot her flight, and prune her mfant whig ; 
Now, Muse, be dumb ; or let thy song deplore 
Thy pleasnres blasted, end thy hopes no mora. 

Tremendous pow'rs ! whq rule th* eternal *■*«# 
Whose voice is thunder, and whose nod is fote ; 
Did I for empire, second to your own, , 

CUng romid the ihrine, and importune the throne . 



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Ioqs«r. 
CjOOgle 



ELEGY ON CONSTANTU. 



205 



?ray*d I, tAat (kme should bear my oanie on high. 
Thro* nation'd Earth, or aJUinvolving sky ? 
Woo*d I for me the Son to toil and shine, 
The gtan to brighten, or mature the mine ? 
Tbo' fleep inTolv*d in adamantine night, 
Ask'd I again to view Heav'n's cheerful light ? 
Pope*s lore I sought; that only boon denyM, 
life ! what pleasure canst thou boast be»ide. 
Worth my regard, or equal to my pride ? 

Thus mourns a thn'rous Mnse, unknown to fame. 
Thus sheds her sweetest incense on thy name ; 
Wbibt on her lips imperfect accents die, 
Tear foUowing tear, and sigh succeeding sigh : 
She moonis, nor she alone, with fond regret, 
A worU, a feeling world, must weep thy £ste. 

Where poUsh'd arts and sacred science reign, 
l^Tiere-e*er the Nine their tuneful presence deign ; 
There shall thy glory, with unclonded blaze, 
Comoiand immortal monuments of praise : 
From clime to clime the circling Sun shall view 
Its r'rral sptendoor still his own pursue. 
While the swift torrent from its source descends ; 
Vihle round this globe UeaT^n's ample concave 

bends; 
Hltilst all its living lamps their course maintain. 
And lead the beauteous year*s revolving train ; 
So lon^ shall men thy Heavenly song aidmire. 
And Nature's charms and thine at once expire. 



ELEGY: 

TO THE MIMORY OP 

CONSTANTIA ». 

His saltem accnmulem donis, et fungar tnani 
MuDeie.- 

Virg, 

Bt tbe pale glimmer of the conscious Moon, 

When sluosber, on the humid eyes of woe, 

SLeds its krad lenitive ; what mournful voice 

So sadly sweet, oo my attentive ear, 

Ii9 moving plaint efioses : like the song 

Of Phihmel, when thro* the vocal air, 

Impeird by deep incensolable grief. 

She breathes her soft, her melancholy strain ; 

And Nature with religious silence hears ? 

Tn she; my wandering senses rocognize 

Tbe well-known charm, and all my listening soul 

h etpectation. Oh ! 'tis that dear voice, 

Wb(»e gentle accents charm'd my happier days ; 

Ere sbaq> afl9iction*s iron hand had prcst 

Her vernal youth, and snnk her with the blow. 

Tell me, thou heavenly excellence ! whose form 
Still riies to my view, whose melting song 
For ever echoes on my trembling ear, 
Delifhtftil ev^ ra misery; O say ! 
\^1ut bright distinguish*d mansion in the sky 
Receives thy suiTring virtue finom the storm, 

* An accomplisbed but unfortunate 3roong lady, 
of the city of Edinburgh, having, without the con- 
lent of her fstber, married a gentleftnan, who car- 
red her to the West Indies, she was there cruelly 
forsakea by him, and lost her life by a mistaken 
aedidoe. 



That on thy tender blossom peor'd its rage ? 
Early, alas ! too early didst thou foel 
Its most tempestuous foi^. From the calmt 
The soft serenity of life how led 
An unsuspecting victim ! Kv'ry blast 
Pierced to thy inmost soul, amid the waste 
Of cruel fortune left to seek thy way 
Unsheltered and alone ; while to thy groant 
No gen'rous ear reclin'd, no firiendly roof. 
With hospitable umbrage, entertain'^ 
Thy drooping sweetness, uninur^d to pain. 
That lib*nU hand, which, to the tortured sens* 
Of anguish, comfort*s healing balm apply'd. 
To Heav'n and Earth extended, vainly now 
Implores the consolation once it gave. 
Nor suppliant meets redress. That eye benign, 
Tbe seat of mercy, which to each distress, 
Ev»n by thy foe sustained, the gentle tear, 
A willing tribute, paid, now fniitless weeps. 
Nor gains that pity it so oft bcstow'd. 

Thou loveliest sacri6ce that ever fell 
To perfidy and unrelenting hate ! 
How i n the hour of confidence and hope. 
When love and expectation to thy heart 
Spoke peace, and plac'd felicity in view ; 
How fled the bright illusion, and at once 
Forsook thee plungM in exquisite despair ! 
Thy friends ; the insects of a summer-gale 
That sport sjod flutter in the mid-day beam 
Of gay prosperity, or from the flow'rs. 
That in her sunshine bloom, with ardour suck 
Sweethess uneamM ; thy temporary fHenda, 
Or blind with headlong fury, or abosM 
By ev'ry gross imposture, or supine, 
LulPd by the songs of ease and pleasure, saw 
Thy bitter destiny with cool regard. 
Thy wrongs ev'n Nature's voice proclaim'd in vain; 
Deaf to her tender importuning call. 
And all the father in his sonl extinct. 
Thy parent sat ; while on thy guiltless head 
Each various torment, that imbitters lifo. 
Exhausted all their force : and, to insure 
Their execrable conquest, black and fell, 
Ev'n as her native region. Slander join'd ; ' 
And o'er thy virtue, spotless as the wish 
Of infant souls, inexorable breath'd 
Her pestilential vapour. Hence fair Truth, 
Persuasive as the tongue of seraphs, urg'd 
Unheard the cause of Innocence ; the blush 
Of fickle friendship hence forgot to glow. 

Meanwhile from these retreats with hapless speed. 
By ev'ry hope and ev'ry wish impelPd, 
Thy steps explored protection. Whence explor'd ? 
Ah me ! from whom, and to what cursed arms 
Wert thou betray'd : unfoeling as the rock 
Which splits tbe vessel ; while its helpless crew. 
With shrieks of iKwrrour, deprecate their fate ? 
O Earth ! O righteous Heav'n! conld'stthou behold; 
While yet thy patient hand the thunder grasp'd. 
Nor hurl'd the flaming vengeance ; could'&t thou see 
The violated vow, the marriage rite 
Pro^in'd, and all the sacred t!cs, which bmd 
Or God or man, abandon'd to the scorn 
Of vice by long impunity confirra'd ? 

But thou, perfidious ! tremble. If on high 

The hand of justice with impartial scale 
Each word, each action poises, and exacts 
Severe atonement from tb' oflbnding heart ; 
Oh ! what hast thou to dread ? what endleas pang. 

Digitized by LjOOQ IC 



5t06 



BLAOCLOCK'S POEMS. 



What deep dmmnation moflt thy soul endnre ? 
On Earth' twas thine to perpetrate a crime. 
From whose grim risage guilt of shameless brow, 
Ev'n in its wild career, might shrink appalled .* 
lis thine to fear hereafter, if not feel. 
Plagues that in Hell no precedent can boast 
Ev'n in the silent, safe domestic hour, 
Ev'n in the scAie of tenderness and peace, ' ' 
Remorse, more 6erce than all the fiends below. 
In fancy's ears, shall, with a thousand tongues. 
Thunder despair and ruin : all her snakes 
f Shall rear their speckled crests aloft in air. 

With ceaseless horrid hiss ; shall brandish quiek " 
Their fbrky tongues, or roll their kindling eyes 
With sanguine, fiery glare. Ev'n while each 
Glows with the rapture of tumultuous joy, 
The tears of injured beauty, the complaints 
Of truth immaculate, by thee expos'd 
To wrongs unnumbered, shall disturb thy bliss ; 
Shall fr^e thy blood with fear, and to thy sight 
Anticipate th' impending wrath of Ueav'n. 
In sleep, kind pause of being ! when the nerve 
Of toil unbends, when, from the heart of care, 
Betires the sated Tulture, when disease 
|And disappointment quaff Lethean draughts 
Of sweet oblirion ; from his charge unblest, 
Shaltspeed thy better angel : to thy dreapu 
Th' infernal gulph shall open, and disclose 
Its latent horrours. O'er the burning lake 
Of blue sulphureous gleam, the piercing shriek, 
The sconige incessant, and the clanking chain. 
Shall scare thee ef*n to firenzy. On thy mind 
Its fiercest flames shall prey ; while from its depth 
Some gnashing fury beckons thy approach. 
And, thirsty of perdition, waits to plunge 
Thy naked soul» ten thousand fathom down. 
Amidst the boiling surges. Such their fate. 
Whose hearts, indocile, to the sacr^ lore 
Of wisdom, truth, and virtue, bani^ far 
The cry of soft compassion ; nor can taste 
Beatitude supreme m giving joy ! 
Thy race, the product of a la^wless flame, 
Ev^ while thy fond imaghiatiop plans 
Their future grandeur, in thy mock'd embraoa 
Shall prematurely pensh; or survive 
To feel their father's m&my, and curse 
The tainted origm from which thy sprung. 
For, oh ! thy soul no soft compunction knew. 
When that fair form, where all the Graces liv'd. 
Perfection's brightest triumph, from thy breast. 
The sport of milder winds sund seas was thrown, 
To glow or shiver m the keen extremes 
Of ev'ry yarious climate : when that cheek, 
Tnig'd with the blush of Heav'n's un&ding rose. 
Grew pale with pining anguish ; when that voice. 
By angels tum'd to harmony ajid love. 
Trembled with agony ; and, in thine ear, 
Utter'd the last extremity of woe. 

From foreign bounty she obtain'd that aid 
Which frieudship, love, humanity, at home, 
Deny'd her blasted worth. From foreign hands 
Her glowhig lips recei^ the cooling draught. 
To sooth the fbver's rage. Firom foreign eyes 
The tear, by nature, love and friendsh^ due, [death 
Flow'd copious o'er the wreck, wliose charms, in 
Still blooming, at the hand of ruin smil'd. 
Destin'd, alas ! in foreign climes to leave 
- Her pale remains unhonour'd ; while the herse 
Of woftUhy guilt emhUucon'd boasU the prid« 



Of painted heraldry, and sou1ptar*d stone 
Protects or flatters its detested fisme. 
Vain trappmgs of mortality ! When these 
Shall crumble, like the worthless dost they bide; 
Then thou, dear spirit ! in immortal joy, 
Crown'd with intrinsic honoors, shalt appear ; 
And God himself, to list'ning worlds, proclsum 
Thy injor'd tenderness, thy faith unstain'd. 
Thy mildness long insulted, and thy worth 
Severely try'd, anid found at last sincere. 

But where, oh 1 where shall art or nature find» 
For smarting sorrow's ever recent wound, 
Some blest restorative ; whose pow'rful chaim 
May sooth thy friend's regret, within his breast 
Suspend the sigh spontaneous, bid the tear. 
By sad reflexion prompted, cease to foil 1 
These, still as moments, days and years revolve^ 
A consecrated o6Pring, shall attend 
Thy de^ idea unefliac'd by time : 
Till the pale night of destiny obscure 
life's wasting taper ; tiU each torpid sense 
Fed Death's chill hand, and grief complain no more. 



A SOLILOQUY: 



Occasioned by the author's escape from folliog nito 
a deep well, where he must have been irrecoverably 
lost, if a fovourite lap^og had not, by the sound of 
its fieet upon the board with which the well was c*« 
vered, warned him of his danger. 

Quid qulsque vitet, nunquam homini satb 
Cautum est in hora a 

Horat. 

Whe*! am 1 1—0 eternal Pow'rofHear'n ! 
Relieve me ; or, amid the silent gloom. 
Can danger's cry approach no gen'rous ear 
Prompt to redress th* unhappy ? O my heart ! % 
What shall I do, or whither shall I turn } 
Will no kind hand, benevolent as Heav'o* 
Save me involv'd in peril and in night ! 

Erect with horrour stands my bristling hair ; 
My tongue forgets its motion ; strength forsakes 
My trembling limbs ; my voice, impell'd in vain. 
No passage finds j cold, cold as death, my bloody 
Keen as the breaUi of wmter, chilis each vein. 
For on the verge, the awhil verge of fote 
Scarce fix'd I stand ; and one progressive step 
Had plung'd me down, unfathomably deep. 
To gnlphs impervious to the cheerful Sun 
And fragrant breeze ; to that abhorr'd abode, 
Where Silence and Oblivion, sisters drear ! 
With cruel Death confederate empire hold. 
In desolation and primeval gloom. [horrour. 

Ha ! what unmans me ^us } what, more than 
Relaxes ev'ry nerve, untunes my frame, 
An4 chills my inmost soul ? — Be still, my heart I 
Nor flutt'ring thus, in vain attempt to burst 
The barrier firm, by which thou art confln'd. 
Resume your functions, limbs I restrain those knees 
From smiting thus each other. Rouse, my soul \ 
Assert thy native dignity, and dare 
To brave this king of terrors; to confront 
His cloudy brow, and unrelenting frown. 
With steady scorn, m conscioas triumph bold» 
Reason, that beam of uncrea t ed day^ 



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A SOULOQUY. 



«07 



T)iit tiy of deity, by God's own breatb 

lafasM aod kiodled, reaaoa will dispel 

Those £aicy'd terroars : Reason will instruct thee. 

That ieaih is Heav'D*s kind interposiog hand, 

Tb natch thee timely from impending woe ; 

Rwn aggregated misery, whose paoj^ 

Cu find no other period but the grave. 

For oh .'—while others gaze on Nature's face, 
Hk Terdant rale, the mouDtaiaB,woods,aDd streams ; 
Or, with delight ioefiable, survey 
"Hie San^ bright image of his parent God ; 
The Kssoos, m majestic order, round 
This TaryM globe revolving ; young-ey'd Spring, 
ProfiBe of life and joy ; Summer, adom'd 
With keen effulgeoce,bright*ning Heav'n and Earth; 
Autumn, replete with Nature's various boon. 
To bless the toilog hind i and Winter, grand 
With rapid storms, corn'olsing Nature's frame : 
Whlbt ethers view Heav'n's all-involving arch, 
Bn?ht with onnnmber'd worlds ; and, lost in joy. 
Fair order and utility behold ; 
Or, mrfrtigu^d, tb' amazing chain pursue, 
Which, in one vast all-comprehending whole, 
Vwia th'hnmeose stupendous works of God, 
Ojojoining part with part, and, thro* the frame, 
Mwing sacred harmony and jay : 
To me those fair vicisatodes are lost, - 
ind grace and beauty blotted from my view. 
TJeverdant vale,the mountains, woods,and streafbs, 
Ok horrid blank appear ; the young- ey'd Spring, 
Efclgeot Summer, Autumn deckM in wealth 
Ta Weis Uhj toiling hind, and Winter, grand 
WHh rapid storms, revolve in vain for me : 
JJor the bright Sun, nor all-embracing aich 
Of HeavX 8ba!l e'er, these wretched orbs behold. 

Beauty, Harmooy ! ye sister train 
Of Graces; you, who, in th' admiring eye 
Of God your charms display'd, ere yet, transcribed 
^stare's form, your Heav'nly features shone : 
Why sre you snatch'd foe ever from my sight, 
W|"bt, in your stead, a boundless, waste expanse 
^oixKstnH^h'd horrour covers all ? 
Wide o'er my prospect rueful darkness breathes 
wr manspicious vapour ; in whose shade, 
"w, grief, and anguish, natives of her reign, 
«»aal sadness, gloomy vigils keep: 
With them 1 walk, with them still doom»d to share 
«w»l blackness, without hopes of dawn. 
T ^^!S ^ ^* ^^^"^ ^ ignorance and scorn, 
^fcarh^rons mirt|i abandoned, point* me out 
J^Miotgrin: the supercilious eye 
Oft. won the noise and glare of prosp'roos life. 
On my obscurity diverts its gazr, 
™%; and, with wanton pride elate, 
fJWlatei its own superior lot : 
J^^«»n triumph ! Hence the piercing Uunt 
jfWjed insolence inflicted deep. 
*** the warm bluA that paints ingenuous shame, 
*jronRaou3 want insp rVI ; th' unpHied pang 
JJ we and friendship sUshted. Hence the tear 
JJoDpotent compas^oo. when the voice 
V[iP*n, by others felt, quick smites my heart, 
*■ nwscf all its tenderness m vain. 
7^^^^ »wl nK)re, on this devoted head, 
**^»ith collected bittenicM been pour'd. 
Jr^ ™y sorrows here. The sacred fona 
Jl™*wdge, scarce acc<fSRible to me, 
r*»t-coo8uming anguish 1 behold ; 
^""•Wjei fcr which my loui ioiatiate burnt 



With ardent thirst Nor can these nseless handSy 
Uotutor'd in each life-sustaining art. 
Nourish this wretched being, and supply 
Frail nature's wants, that short cessation know. 

Where now, ah ! where is that supporting arm ^ 
Which to my weak, unequal infant steps 
Its kind assistaqce lent ? Ah ! where that love. 
That strong assiduous tenderness, which watch'd 
My wishes yet scarce form'd ; and, to my view, 
Unimportun'd, like ail- indulging Heav'n, 
Their objects brought ? ^h I where that gentle Toiot 
Which, with instruction, soft as summer dews 
Or fleecy snows, descending on my soul, 
Distinguish'd ev'ry hour with new delight ? 
Ah ! where that vhrtue, which, amid the storms, 
The mingled horrours of tumultuous life, 
Untainted, unsubdu'd, the shock sustained? 
So firm the oak which, in eternal night. 
As deep its root extends, as high to Heav'n 
Its top majestic rises : such the smile 
Of some benignant angel, from the throne 
Of God dispatch'd, embassador of peace ; ^ 
Who on his look imprest bis message beais. 
And pleased, from Earth averts impendmg ill* 
Alas ! no wife thy parting kisses shar'd: 
Fronr thy expiring lips uo child received 
Thy last, dear ble&sing and thy last advice, 
Friend, father, benefactor, all at once. 
In thee forsook me, an unguarded prey 
For ev'ry storm, whose lawless fury roars 
Beneath the azure concave of the sky. 
To toss, and on my head exhaust its rage. 

Dejecting prospect I soon the hapless boor 
May come ; perhaps this moment it impends. 
Which drives me forth to penury and cold, 
Naked, and beat by all the storms of Heav'n, 
Friendless and guideless to explore my way ; 
Till ou cold earth this poor, unshelter'd bead 
Reclining, vainly from the ruthless blast 
Respite I beg, and in the shock expire. 

Me miserable ! wherefore, O my soul ! 
Was, on such hard conditions, life desired ? 
One step, one friendly step, without thy guilt. 
Had plac'd me safe in that profound recess. 
Where, undisturb'd eternal quiet reigns. 
And sweet forgetfulness of grief and care. 
Why, then, my coward soul ! didst thou recoil } 
Why shun the final exit of thy woe ? 
Why shiver at approaching dissolution ? 

Say why, by Nature's unresisted force. 
Is ev'ry being, where vol itiop reigns 
And active choice, impelled to shun their fiite. 
And dread destruction, as the worst of ills ; 
Say, why they shrink, why fly, why fight, why ridi. 
Precarious life, to lengthen out its date, 
W^hich, lengthened, is, at best, protracted pain ? 
Say, by what mystic charms, can life allure 
Unnumber'd beings, who, beneath me far " 
Plac'd in th* extensive scale of Nature, want 
Those blessings Heav'n accumulates on me ^ 
Blessings superior; tho' the blaze of day 
Pours on their sight \U sout-tefreshing stream^ ' 
To me extinct in everlasting shades: 
Yet heav'n-taught music, at whose powerful Toice^ 
Corrosive care and anguish, charm'd to peace, 

* The character here drawn is that of the an* 
thor's father, whose unforeseeo fiite bad just befort 
hi^pened. 



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SOS 



BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



FoTMke the heart, and yidd It a1) to joy, 
Ke^er sooths their pangs. To their msensate view 
Knowledge in vain her fairett tceasnre spreads. 
To them the noblest gift of bounteous Heav'n, 
99ieet converBatJon, whose enlivening foree 
Elates, distends, and, with unfiiding stroogtb. 
Inspires the soul, remams for ever lost. 
The sacred sympathy of social hearts, 
Benevolence, supreme delight of Heav'n ; 
IV extensive wish, which in one wide embrace, 
All beings circles, when the swelling soul 
Partakes tlie joys of God ; ne'er warms their breasts. 

As yet my soul ne*er felt the oppressive weight 
Of indigence unaided ; swift redress, 
Beyond the daring flight of hope, approadi'd, 
And evVy wish of nature amply blest. 
Tho*, o'er the future series of my fiitc, 
111 omens seem to brood, and stars malign 
To blend their baleful fire: oft, while the Snn 
Darts boundless glory thro* th' expense of Heav*n, 
A gloom of congregated vapours rise. 
Than night more dreadftil in her blackest shroud, 
And o'er the face of things incumbent hang, 
Portending tempest ; till the source of day 
Again asserts the empke of the sky. 
And, o'er the blotted scene of Nature, throws 
A keener spleoJonr. So, peihaps, that care, 
Thro' all creation felt, but most l^ man. 
Which' hears with kind regard the tender sigh 
Of modest want, may dissipate my ftnrs. 
And bid my hours a happier flight assume. 
Perhaps, ealtv'niog hope ! perhaps my soul 
May drink at wisdom's foontaio, and allay 
Her unextinguished ardour in the stream : 
Wisdom, the constant magnet, where each wish, 
Set by the hand of Mature, ever points. 
Restless and faithftil, as th' attractive force 
By which all bodies to the centre tend. 

What then ! because th* indulgent Sire of all 
Has, in the plan of things, pre^crib'd my sphere; 
Because consummate Wisdom thoaght not fit. 
In affluence and pomp, to bid me shine ; 
Shall J regret my destiny, and curse 
That state, by Heav'n's pakmal care, designed 
To train me up for scenes, with which compared. 
These ages, measured by the orbs of Heav'n, 
In blank fmathilation fade away ? 
For scenes, whete, finish'd by the Almighty art, 
Beauty and order open to the sight 
In vivid glory ; where the faintest rays 
Out-flash the splendour of our mid-day Sun ? 
Say, shall the Source of all, who first ass^nid. 
To each constituent of this wond'rous frame 
Its proper powers, its place and action due. 
With due dei^rees of weakness, whence results 
Couoord ine%ble.; shall he reverse. 
Or disconcert tto^imyersal scheme. 
The gen'ral good, tollatleic selfish pride 
And blind desh« ? — ^Before tnMJmighty voice 
From non-existence call'd me into fifs*^ 
What claim had I to being? what to shfilfr.^ 
In this htghrrank of creatures, fwm'd to clim^ 
The steep ascent of virtue, unrelax'd, 
Till infinite perfection crown their toil? 
Who ooosetous of their origin divine. 
Eternal order, beauty, truth, and good, 
Pereeive,.rike their greait Parent, and admire. 

Hush ! then, my heart, with pious caretsuppreis 
This timid pride and impotence of soul : 



Learn now, why all those mnUitudes, whi<^ cixM 

This spacious theatre, and gaxe on Heav*n> 

Invincibly averse to meet tli^r fate. 

Avoid each danger: know this sacred truth ; 

All-perfect Wisdom, on each living soul, 

Engrav'd this mandate, •* to preserve tiieir frame. 

And hold entire the gen'ral orb of being." 

Then, with becoming rev'rcnce let each pow'r. 

In deep attention, hear the voice of God ; 

Tliat awful voice, which, speakmg to the soul. 

Commands its resignation to his law ! 

For this, has Heav'n to virtue's glorious stage 
Call'd me, and plac'd the garland in my view, 
'ITie wreath of conquest ; basely to desert 
The part assign'd me, and, with dastard fear. 
From present pain, the cause of futnre bliss. 
To shrink into the bosom of the grave ? ^ 
How, then, is gratitude's vast debt repaid ? 
Where all the tender offices of love 
Due to fraternal man, in which the heart. 
Each blessing it commniticates, enjoys ? 
How thon sitall I obey the first, great law 
Of Nature's legislator, deep imprest 
With double sancrbn ; restless fear of death. 
And Ibndnees still to brenthe this vital air? 
Nor is th' injunction hard : who would-not srok 
A while in itan and sorrow ; then emerge 
With tenfold lustre ; triumph o'er his pain ; 
And, with unfading glory, shine in Heav'n ? 

Come then, my little guardian genius ! clothe) 
In that familiar form ; nT>' Phylax, come ! 
Let me caress thee, hug thee to my heart. 
Which beats with joy of life preserv'd by thee. 
Had not thy interposing fondness staid 
My blind precipitation, now, ev'n now. 
My soul, by Nature's sharpest pangs expelTd, 
Had left this frame ; had pass'd the dreadful bound, 
Which life from death divides ; divides this scene 
From vast eternity, whose deep'ning shades. 
Impervious to the sharpest mortal sight. 
Elude our keenest search. — Tint still I err. 
Howe'er thy grateful, undesigning heart. 
In ills foreseen, with pi-omptitudc might aid ; 
Yet this, beyond thy utmost reach of thought. 
Not ev'n remotely distant could'st thou view. 
Secure tliy steps the ftvgile board could press. 
Nor feel the least alarm where 1 had sunk : 
Nor couId^st thou judge the awful depth below. 
Which, from its watry bottom, to receive 
My fall, tremendous 3rawn*d. Thy utmost skill. 
Thy deepest penetration here had stopt. 
Short of its aim j and in the strong embrace 
Of ruin struggling, left me to expire. 
No— Iieav'n's high Sov*reign, provident of all, 
Thy passive organs moving, taught thee first 
To check my heedless course ; and hence I live. 

Eternal Providence ! whose eqnal sway 
Weighs each event ; whose ever-waking care. 
Connecting high with lo%v, mmute with great. 
Attunes the wendrous whole, and bids each put 
In one unbroken harmony conspire : 
^^ Hail ! sacred Source of happiness and liffe I 
'^Substantial Good, bright intellectual Sun ! 
To whom my soul, by symrmthy innate, 
Unweary'd tends ; and finds, in thee alone^ . 
Securityj enjojrment, and repoSe. 

By thee, O God ! by thy paternal arm. 
Thro' ev*!^ period of my infant state, 
SustamHl I live to 3rield thee praises doa 



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EPISTLES. 



ftog 



! eonU ay lays, with beav*iily rsptares w»nn, 
^dk » tbf throoe, re-ecbo to the songs 
Ofaagdi; theoce, O ! could my pray*r obtain 
Got beao of ia^iratioa, to inflame 
iod amaate my mimben ; HeaVn's full choir, 
h ixdti^ itraios, th' inspiriog God might sing ; 
Yet oot laore ardent, more sincere, than mine. 
But Iho' my voice, beneath Ihe seraph*s note. 
Mo* check it5 feeble accents, low deprest 
Bf dull morUUty ; to thee, great Soul 
Of e«aT»n 9Qd Earth ! to thee my hallow'd strain 
Of gratitiade and praise shall still ascend. 



MBS- 



TO THE AUTHOR. 



Wilis frieoddup*s gentle pow'rs my bosom fire, 

Dmmo, accept the lays which you inspire : 

^'y W-neglected Muse thy worth revives. 

And gen'roos ardour from tby flame receives. 

Iteaiatic troubies long my mind oppressed. 

And made the Mose a stranger to my breast; 

^ friendship's aoftofrt charm3 could raise my song. 

Till »ik»d to lifie by thy persuasive tongue. 

DuDQo, cooid I boost thy i^ondious »ki!l, 

Waebat my genius equal to my will, 

T^j pruses I unweary*d would proclaim ; 

Asd pbcf thee with the brightest sons of fame. 

Saie, Dunon, ^tis some god thy breast inspires. 

And fills thy soul with those cejestial firPs: ^ 

Thy thoughts so just, so noble, so refin'd, 

^^ elegant, that virtuous turn of mind, 

Vsy jostly claim the praise of all mankind. 

Wky am I callM to leave my native plains. 
To nnge oq barren bills with rustic swains ? 
fir from my fellow oyinphs, a sprightly throng. 
And far, too £ar from thy harmonious tongue ! 
mitill thy praise shall be my favorite theme: 
^^ echo snail resound with Damon's fame, 
^ ev*ry tree shall bear his much-lov'd name. 

0! could I bear thee to Acasto's seat, 
|*fhttbo$ and bis sons a known retreat ; 
^**0i ^hgse great mind and honest soul 
Jo hopes can bias, and no fear* control. 
Beijitiic's patron long has firmly stood, 
jH in a vidous age, been greatly good. 
2^his Acasto in some fragrant bow*r 
w^VI Crania, and confe»s'd her powV ; 
««* the tuneful n^aid has own'd liis lays, 
«d Me»»d his song with weil-desefved praise. 
Were I^qxri there, to join the tuneful choir, 
■wi tU the beauties of his verse and lyre, 
J»wt wQokt cfviliee onr savage plains, 
•^ oar country nymphs, and ruml swains. 
J*tl»' hard fate deny my fond request, 
J^«* tear thy memory from my breast ; 
J*-«hile life's blood runs warm in cv*ry vein, 
' * thee a lasting frienMip 111 maintain : 
«d vhen this busy scene of life is o»er, 
^.Ittth retards the souPs excursions more, ^ t 
"2 ^ "*** ***** »» **>«* happier scenes, ^ 
TwT ]^||*y*^» hnroortal pleasure reigns. 
*J*w, cnmnM with yontb nnMrng, let ns stray 
IJ^the bright regions of eternal day j 
JjejrfsMiirtial happinensQoued, 



Some pow*r cotidoct as thro' tlie glorious Tosd, 
And lead us safe to that divine abode, 
Where bliss eternal waits the virtuous soul, 
And joys on jo3rs in endless circles roll. 

1740. \ OiOr 



THE AUTHOR'S ASWER. 

When Clio seemM forgetful of my pain, 
A soft impatience throbbed in ev'ry vein j 
Each tedious hour I thought an age of woe'; 
So few their pleasures, and their pace so slow t 
But, when your moving accents reached my ear. 
Just, as your taste, and as your heart sincere j 
My soul re-ech6'd, while the melting strain 
B<»it in each puket and flowed in ev'ry vein. 

Ah ! teach my verse, like your's, to be refinM ; 
Your force of language, and your strength of minds 
Teach me that winning, soft, persuasive art, 
Which ravishes the soni, and charms the heart : 
Then ev'ry heighten^jl pow'r I will employ 
To paint your merit, and express my joy. 
Less soft the strains, the numbers less refin'd. 
With which great Orpheus polish'd human kind; 
Whose magic force could fawless vice reprove. 
And teach a world the sweets of social love. 

•When great Acasto's ' virtues grac'd your layi. 
My soul was lost m the effulgent blaze ; 
Whose love, like Heav'n, to all' mankind extends. 
Supplies the indigent, the weak defends ; 
Pursues tile good of all with steady aim ; 
One bright, unweary'd, unextjoguisb'd flame. 
What transport felt my sohI, what keen delight. 
When its full blaze of glory met my sight ! 
But soon, too toon, the happy gleam was o*er ; 
What joy can reign where Clio it no more ? 

Ah ! hapless me ! must y^ more woes iuspira 
11ie mournful song, and tune the tragic lyre ? 
The last and greatest of the sable train ? 
Her Clio*s absence must,the Muse complain. 
From these intrusive thoughts all pleasure flies. 
And leaves my soul benighted, like my eyes. 

Yet, while absorbed in thought alone I stray. 
On ev*ry sense while silent sorrows prey. 
Or from some arbour, conscious of ray pain. 
While to the sighing breeze I sigh in vain; 
May each new moment, fraught with new delight. 
Crown your bright day, and bless your silent night : 
May heightening raptures cv*ry senie iurprise. 
Music your ears, gay prospects charm your eyes: 
May all op Earth, and all in Heav^ cuaspire 
To make your pleasures lasting and entire. 
Tis thine alone can sooUi my anxious breast. 
Secure of bliss, while conscious you are blest. 



EPISTTE I. 



TO TUB' SAME. PROM IDIUBURCI. 

Fiunl where bleak north winds chill the frozen sldeSf 
And lov*d Edina's lofty turrets rise, 

. 1 A genllucnan, who then resided in OaUoway, 
distinguished for hospitality; for his inriolable attach- 
ment to the interests uf his country ; and, in short, 
for all those virtues which adorned his ancestors, 
and dignify homan natura. 

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no 



BLACKtOCK'S POEHS. 



Sing bf^T'nly Mase ! to thy lov*d Clio sing ; 
Tune thy fiunt Toice, and' stretch thy drooping wing. 

Could I, like Uriel, on some pointed nyi. 
To 3rour fair distant Edcw wing my way, 
Outstrip the mooients, scorn the swiftest wind. 
And leave ev*n wing*d desire to lag behind ; 
So strong, so swift, I'd fly the port to gain; 
The speed of angets should pursue in vain* 

Ah ! whither, whither would my fancy stray ? 
Nor hope sustains, nor reason leads the way : 
No, let my eyes in scalding sorrows flow. 
Vast as my loss, and endless as my woe : 
Flow, till the torrent quench tliis vital flaoie. 
And, with increasing hours, increase the stream. 
Yet, Clio, hear, in pity to my smart, 
If gentle pity e'er could touch thy heart : 
Let but one line suspend my constant care. 
Too faint for hope, too lively for despair: 
Thee let me, still wjth wont^ rapture find 
The Muse's patroness, and poet's friend. 



EPISTLE IL 



TO DoaiNDA, wrm venicb prbseiv'd. 

Ip friendship gains not pardon for the Muse, 

Immortal Otway, sure, will plead excuse : 

For eyes like thine he wrote hi» moving lajrs, 

Which feel the poet, and which weep his praise. 

Whether great JafBer tender griefii inspires. 

Struggling with cruel fate, and high desires ; 

Or Belvidera's gentler accents fluw, 

When all her soul she breathes in love and woe : 

Drawn from the heart the various passions shine, 

And'Wonnded Natnre bleeds in cv'fy line. 

Ai when some turtle spies her lovely mate 

PiflTC'd by the ball, or flutt'riog in the net. 

Her little heart just bursting with despair. 

She droops her wings, and breathes her soul in air. 



EPISTLE ItL 
TO MISS ANNIE RAE: 

wrm THB MANUAL OP KPICTBTOS, AMD TABLATVIB 
Of CBBBBw 

Go, happy leaves I to Anna's view disclose 

What solid joy from real vhtue flows ; 

When, like the world, self-pois'd, th' exalted soul, 

UnshiUcen, scorns the storms that round her roll ; 

And, in herself collected, joys to find 

Th' uBtaintad image of th' eternal mind. 

To bid mankind their end supreme porsiie. 
On God and Nature fix their wand'ring view ; 
To teach reluctant passion to obey, 
. Check'd, or hnpellM by reason's awful sway ; 
From films of errour purge the mental eye. 
Till undissembled nood m prospect lie ; 
The fOul with heav'n-bom virtue to inflame :, 
Such was the Stoic's and Socratic's aim. 

O ! could they view from yon immortal scene, 
Where beauty, truth and good, unclonded, reign. 
Fair hands like thine revolve their labour'd page. 
Imbibe their truth, and in their task engage ; 
With rapture would they hail so fair a sight, 
Aai feel new bliss in Ueav'n's supreme delight. 



TO MISS D. n. 1 

W ANSWER TO A LrrTBa SHB WBOTB TBB AOfRMK 
FBOM OOMPBIBS. 

Mat Heaven's best blessings on thy head descend. 
Whose goodness recollecto an absent friend ; 
Brighter and brighter may thy momenti roll, 
Joy warm thy heart, and virtue tune thy soul ; 
With length'ning lifs still happier be thy state. 
As by thy worth, distinguished by thy fiUe. 
Oh ! if my ardent vows successful prove; 
If merit charms, if God himself ^ love ; 
Of all the lots his bounty e*er assign'd 
To bless the best, the noblest of mankind; 
For none shall happier constellations sbhie. 
None boast a sphere of ampler bliss than thine. 

Few of thy sex, alas f how wond'rotts few, 
Bestow those kind regards to virtue due : 
A humble name, of wealth too small a share, , 
A form unseemly, or a clownish air ; 
These casual feults the squeamish fair disgnit, 
Who to be thought reftn'd, becom^ unjust. 
Not such Dorinda's more intense survey. 
It looks fbr charms unconscious of decay ; 
Surface and form pervades with nobler taste, 
And views God's image on tiie heait imprest. 
O may I ever share thy kind esteem, 
In fortune's change, and life's tumultuous dream: 
If future hours be ting'd with odours gay, 
There let thy friendship mix its heav'nly ray; 
O'er all my fate if adverse planets reigu, 
O let thy gentle pity sooth my pain : 
With this one precious good secureiy^bfest. 
Let chance or fbrtune regulate the rest. 

Since still to me extend thy geo'rous <»res, 
My study, health, employment, and afiain; 
These ever in the same dull channel flow, 
A lazy current, uniformly slow. 
Thus still from hour to hour, from day to dfty, 
Life*b glimm'ring taper langnish^'away ; 
A doubtful flame, a dim portentous light. 
That wastes, and sickens into endtess night 

The modes of dress, the sophist's keen defaiter 
The various politics of church or state, 
! A soul like tliine will think but trivial news. 

Beneath the care of friendship, and the Musei 
I In vain I urge dull thought from Ime to Un^ 
I Fancy grows restive to the fond design : 
t Here let the Muse her weary pinions rest, 
; Be ever khid, and oh 1 be ever blest. 



TO MISS A. H. ON HER MARRIAffS^ 

I v ATB the stiff address, the stodiad phrase 
Of formal compliment, and empty praise, 
= Where fancy labours to exprew the heart, 
I With all the paint, and impotence of art ; ^ 
! But when witn merit friendship's charms coo^n* 
To bid my hand resume the votive lyre. 
Once more my veins then: fbrmer raptmjpi Taa^r 
And all the Muses mmy bosom glow. 

» The young lady to whom the Mboody it in- 
scribed. 



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EPISTLES. 



211 



ti Odb, wboctf soul with ereiy sweetness crowned, 
Diflbfs light, and life, and pleasorf* n)und ; 
t^Twt heart, wKh cv'ry tender sense eiidowM, 
(tlo»?, like creative hove, serenely pjod j 
Wbose easy manners at one view display 
Fucy'tqakk flash, and reason's steady ray ; 
Wbtk; each iaiemal charm, with sweet surprise. 
Beams thro* tby form, and lights thy radiant eyes: 
Bicsi'd with those joys, may all thy moments flow. 
Which conscious virtue only can bestow : 
That soft, eternal stinshine of the miniJ, 
^eet asthy charms, and as thy soul refined. 
Miy fieav'n protect thee with a father's care. 
And make thee happy, as it made thee fair. 
may the man now sacred to thy choice, , 
With all his soul the real blewing prize ; 
One common end o*er all your views preside. 
One wish impel yon, and one purpose guitle ; 
Be all your days auspicious, calm, and bright, 
Ooe scene of tender, pure, unmhc'd delight. 
Till time and fiste exhaust their eodletis store, 
lad Ueav*a alooe can make your pleasure more. 



TO THE REVEREND MR. JAMESON. 

Why moams my fneod, what cause shall T o^ign ? 
Why smarts that tender, honest soul of thine ? 
Ifhat star, a foe to all that's good and great, 
Blues, wkb malignant influence, dash thy fiste ? 
Why dinnks my heart witii fears not understood ? 
What strange portentous tadoess chilis my blood ? 
! breithe tiiy latent sorrows in mine ear. 
And prompt the starting, sympathetic tear* 
Ai tender mothers, With araiduous view, 
Hieir m&nt oftpring's wandering steps pursue, 
As, wing'd from Heav*n, celestial guardians wait. 
To match their fav'rite chattic from instant fate : 
hieadshipthy close attendant shall remain, 
Pitpar'd to soften, or partake thy pain : 
Whether thy form, to pale disease a prey. 
Beneath its preasure pants the tedious day ; , 

Or if some tend<*r grief dissolves thy mind, 
EMfa wish extinguished; and e»ch hope resi^n'd i 
Por thee my sptrits shall more languid flow ; 
fot thee, the flame of life suspend its glow ; 
For thee, this heart with sorrows new shall groan, 
Aad add thy part of anguish to its own. 
Whatever scenes thy pensive walk invite, 
Thither thy firieod shall bend bis speedy Oight. 
Say, shall oar social steps to^rethcr stray 
Tkto* groves that glimmer with a tu iljirht ray ? 
Or thiQ^ some boondless solit^^ry pl;iin, 
Whers Melanclioly holds h^r pen.-ive reign ? 
8iy,tbro' embowering myrtles shall we rote 
BedewM with recent tears by hopeless love ? 
Or, where n e g lecte d worth, from men rctir'd, 
hi OQcomplaining agony expired ? 
Tbers in the «ilent C3rpre^ shade reclin'd, 
Ui each in each a faithful sotTrer find ; 
IWre let oor mingling plaints to lieav'n ascend ; 
There, let our eyes their ceaseless currents biend : 
Our minglaqp plahits shall stop the passing gale. 
Aid each eaamoorM echo sigh the tale. 
fv whilst t ppeaky ev*o in this mortal honr> 
Piohapf lelflotlesa Death exfrtf its pow*r. 



Perhaps the shaft already wings its waV, 
Too surely aim'd, and Baraet » falls its prey. 
Him Nature, with no common care, design'd. 
His form embellish'd, and his soul refiu'd ; 
O ! with what ardour did his piercing view. 
Thro* every maze of Nature, truth pursue ! 
Sacred to virtue, and the Muse, his breast 
With ft((Bav'u's own loveliest image was iuiprest 
Dke Heav'n's eternal goodness, uncoutinM, 
His soul, with one fond wish, embracM mankind : 
For them his time, his cares were ail employed j 
Their griefs he felt ; their happiness enjoy *d ; 
His parents, now, in bitterness of pain. 
Shall ask from Hcav'n and Earth their son in vain: 
In vain, his friends, with pious gifts shall tell 
How gay he blossomM, and how early fell. 
Thro* all his frame a fever's fury itigns, 
Consnmes his vitals, and infl.imes his veins. 
In tears the salutary arts retreat, 
And virtue views with pangs her darling's fate. 

Here pause, my friend, and with due candour own 
Afl^iction's cup not mix'd for thee alone ; 
Others, Uke thee, its dire contents must dram. 
And share their full mheritance of pain. 
But, O! may brighter houts thy life attend ; 
Such as from Heav'ii on happy lovc descend ; 
Such gleams, as still on conscious virtue shine^ * 
By God and man approv*d, be ever thine. 
May reason, arm*d with each persuasive art. 
Inspire tby prec<»pts, as she guides thy heart: 
Nor let th/soul the smallest portion know 
Oi' all my past distress, or present woe. 



AS EPITAPH, ON ms FATHER. 

Herb drop, Benevolence, thy sacred tear, 

A friend of human kind reposes here : 

A man, content himself, and God, to know; 

A heart, with every vulue form*d to glow : 

Beneath each pressure, uniformly great ; 

In life untainted, unsurprised by fate : 

Such, tho' obscur*d by various ills, he shone ; ^ 

Consoi'd bis neighbour's woes, and bore his own : 

Heav'n saw, and suatch'd from fortune's rage itt 

prey, > 

To share the triumphs of eternal day. 



TO MRS. ANNE BLACKLOCK, 
THE ALTHOR'S MOTHER. 

Wrm A COPY or THE SCOTCH EDXTtOS OF H!S POSMS^ 

O THOU ! who gav'st me first this world t* explore, 
Whoie frame, for me, a mother's anguish bore ; 
For me, whose heart its viul current drain'd, 
Wijose bosom nurs'dme^and whose arms 8U8tain*d| 

» Mr. Bamet, an Englishman, a dear and inti- 
mate friend of our poet He was a student of phy- 
sic in the university of Edinburgh ; and at the time 
the above epbtle was written, lay dangerously ill 
of a fever, of which he died a few days after, in the 
bloom ot youth, oiiich lamented by all who knew 
him, but particularly by A^r. Blacklock, who scarce 
ever m^^nttoued his name without a ttsar. 



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BLACKLOCK^ POEMS. 



tl2 

What tho» thy sw, dependent, weak, and blind. 
Deplore his wishes checked, his hopes confm'd ? 
Tho* want, impending, cloud each chcarless day. 
And death with life seem struggling for their pr€y ? 
Let this console, if not reward, thy pain. 
Unhappy he may lite, but not in rain. 



PROLOGUE TO OTHELLO: 

■POKBN BT MR. LOVB, AT THE OPEMINO OF THE 
P£AY-UOi;SB IN DdMFRIES. 

Yb souls ! by soft humanity inspir'd. 
For gen'rons hearts and manners free admir'd; 
Where taste and commerce, amicably joined. 
Embellish life, and cultivate the mind : 
Without a blush you may support our sUge ; 
No tainted joys shall here your view engage. 
To tickle fools with prostituted art, 
Debauch the fency, and corrupt the heart. 
La others stoop j such meanness we despise, 
And please with virtuous objects virtuous eyei. 

The tender soul what dire convul^ons tear. 
When whispering villains gain th* mcautious ear; 
How heav'nly mild, yet how intensely bright. 
Fair bnocence, tbo' clouded, strikes the sight ; 
What endless plagues from jealous fondness ftow, 
Tbb night our faithful scenes attempt to ibow : 
No new-born whim, no hasty flash of wH; 
But Nature's dictates, by great Shakespeare writ. 

Immortal bard ! who, with a master hand. 
Could all the movements of the soul commasd ; 
With pity 600th, with terrour shake her frame i 
In love dissolve her, or to rage inOame. 

To^taste and virtue, Heav''n-descended pairl 
While pleasM we thus devote our art and care ; 
To crown our ardour, let your fav'rin^ smile 
Reward our hopes, and animate our toil : 
So may your eyes no weeping moments know, 
But when they share some Desdemooa's woe. 



PROLOGUE TO HAMLETt 

tPOKEM BY MR. LOVEj AT DOMPRIXS. 

IirsriR'D with pleasing hope to entertain, 

Once more we offer Shakespeare's hcav'nly strain ; 

While hov'nng round, his laurePd shade surveys 

What eyes shall pour their tribute to his praise ; 

W^at hearts with tender ^lity shall regret 

The bitter grief that clouds^ Ophelia's fate. 

Once fair she fiourish'd. Nature's joy and pride, 
But droop'd and wither'd, when a father dy'd. 
Severe eiitremes of tenderness and woe. 
When love and virtue mourn one common blow; 
When Krie6f alternate o'er the bosom reign. 
And ev'ry sense, and ev'ry thought is pain ! 
^ere Nature Iriumph'd, on her throne sublime. 
And mock'd each pigmy Muse of later time ; 
Till Shakespeare touch'd the soul with all her smart. 
And stamped her living image on the heart 

From his iostrucuve song we deeply feel. 
How vainly guilt its horrours would conceal. 
Tho' night and silence with the fraud conspire, 
To bid the crime from human search retire; 



Tho' yet the traitor seem from barm seean. 
And fate a while suspend th' avenging hour s 
Tho' fortune nurse him with a mother's care. 
And deck her pageant in a short-liv'd glare: 
In vain he struggles to disguise his smart, 
A living plague corrodes his ulcered heart ; 
While ev'ry form of ruin meetsiiis eyes, 
And Heav'n's vindictive tcrrours roiSnd him rite. 

Such salutary truths their light diffuse. 
Where honours dqe attend the tra^c Muse; 
Deep by her sacred signature imprest. 
They mingle with the soul, and warm the breis^ 
Hence Uught of old, the pious and the iage» 
With Teneratioo, patroniz'd the stage. 

But, soft! methiuks you cry with some sorprist, 
*< How long intend you thus to moralize?" 
Our prologue deviates from establi^h'd rules. 
Nor shocks the fair, nor calls the critics fools, 
Tis true ; but, dully fond of common sense. 
We still think spleen to wit has no pretence; 
Think impudence is' fiir remote from spirit. 
And modesty, tho* aukwaid, has some merit. 



AN EPIGRAM: 
TO A GnnxsMAK, WHO ASKBi) MY sBMnionm or 

BIM. 

DsAEFabins! me if well yoo know. 

You ne*er will take me for your foe; ' 

If right yourself you comprehend. 

You ne'er will take me for your friends ^ 



AS EPIGRAM: 

ON PUNCH. 

Hekcb r resUciss caro» and low design ; 
Hende ! foreign compliments and wine : 
Let generous Britons, brave and free. 
Still boast their puncJi and honesty, 
life is a bumper fill'd by fate, 
And we the guests who share the treat ; 
Where strong, insipid, sharp and sweet. 
Each other duly temp'ring meet 
A while with joy the scene is crown'd ; 
A while the catch and toast go round : 
And, when the full carouse is o'er. 
Death pufis the lights, and shuts the door* 
Say then, physicians of each kind. 
Who care the body, or the mind ; 
What barm in drinking can there be^ 
Since punch and life so well agree ? 



AN EPIGRAM: 
ON MARRUGE. 



YouKc Cclia, now a blooming bride, 
Sat from her friends apart, and cry*d;' 
Her faithful Chloe view'd her care. 
And thus consol'd the weeping feir : 

"OoodHeav'n! in tears! forsbame! lo«kf«n 
Nor cIoihI with grief your nuptiai day* 



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ADVICE TTO the LADtES. 



^i 



ffbrya n tmn leceWetheir fpomes, 
Wkt mast tb€ hapless wretch wfaa loses ? 
Beades, my dear, you know *tia reasoo, 
Ibt all UuDgs have a proper season : 
Nov, *th in marriage a plain case, 
Tfaat crying hoMs th^ second place. 
Let vulgar sunls io sonow sink, % 

Who atways act, and never think : 
Bat, to retfeetiog Blinds like yon, 
Haniaes can tore have nothing new.* 



AN EFJGRASi. 

on THE SAVB* 



Wfloint laab the marriage wfj/m, 
Til veil agreed, makes one of two: 
Bat who can tell, save O— d alone. 
What MBben may make two of one. 



AN EPITAPH, 

ON A FAVOUBITE LAP-DOa 

I nvnt baric'd when ont of season ; 
I aever bit without a reason ; 
I BS^er msnlted weaker brother ; 
Nor wraag*d by firce nor frand another. 
ThoQgfa hmtes aie plac'd a rank betow, 
flappy fcr man, oookl be say so ! 



THE AVTHOWS PICTURE. 

WmB io my matchless graces wrapt I stand, 
Aod touch each feature with a trembling hand ; 
Ddgn, k>rely Self 1 with art and nature's pride. 
To oux the cokmrs, and the pencil guide. 

Self k the grsmd pursuit of lu|lf mankind : 
Hsv wt a cruvrd by Self, like me, are blind! 
Bf Sd^ the fop, in magic colours, shown, 
TW sDooi'd by ev'ry eye, delights his own : 
When age and wrinkles seize the conquering maid, 
Sd^ not the gimss, reflecU the flattViog shade. 
•a»,wooder-vrorkingSclf! begin the lay; 
Thy charms to others, as to me, display. 

Straight is my person, but of little size ;. 
lean are my cheeks, and boUow are my eyes : 
My yoothfol down is, like my talents, rare; 
Mbely distant stands each single hair. 
My voice too rcHigh to charm a Iady*s ear ; 
So sBBOoth, a child may listen without fear ; 
Kot fbrm'd in cadenoe soft' and warbling lays. 
To soolh the fiiir thro' pleasure's wanton ways. 
My form so fine, so regular, so new ; 
My port so manly, and su fresh my hue ; 
Oft, as I meet the crowd, they laughing say, 
" See, see Memento mori cross the way." 
Hk lavidi'd Proserpine at last, we koowf 
Grew fondly jealous of her sable bean ;^ 
Bat, thanks to Nature ! none from me n^ 6y ; 
One heart the Devil could wound — so cannot I. 

Yet, tho* my person fearless may be leen, 
llMie is sone danger in my graceful mien : 
fbr, as SQOie vesel, toss'd by wind and tide, 

' I o*«r thi wave^ and rocki froQ fida to tide ; 



In just vibration thus I always movet 

This who can view, and not be forcM to love ? 

Hail! charming Self ! by whose propitious lid 
My form in all its glory stinds displayed : 
Be present still $i with fospiratbn kind. 
Let the same faithfal colours paint the mind. 

Like all mankind, with vanity Vm bless'd ; 
Consciooa of wit I never yet possessed. 
To strong desires my heart an easy prey, 
Ofi feels their force, but never owns their sway* 
This hour, perhaps, as death I hate my foe ; 
The next I wonder why 1 should do so. 
Tho' poor, the richr I view with careless eye ; 
Scorn a vain oath, and hate a serious lye. 
I ne'er, for satire, torture common sense ; 
Nor show my wit at Ood's, nor man's expense 
Harmless I live, unknowing and unknown ; * 
Wish well to all, and yet do good to none. 
Unmerited contempt I bate to bear ; 
Yet on my fa«i1ts, like others, am severe. 
Dishonest flames my brmom never fire ; 
The bad I pity, and the good admire : 
Food of the Muse, to her devote my days. 
And scrilibie — not for pudding, tuit for praise. 

These careless lines if any virgin hears. 
Perhaps, in pity to my joyless jrears. 
She may consent »gen'rous fiarae to own; 
And ( no fonger sigb the nights alone. i 

Bat, shonld th»^fair, afiected, vain or nice, 
Scveam with the fears inspir'd by frogs or mice; 
Cry, " Save us, Heaven ! a speetre, not a man l'» 
Her hartshorn snatch, or interpose her fan : 
If I my tender overture repeat ;, 
O ! may my vows her kind reception meet I 
May she new graces on my form bestow. 
And, with tall honours, dt^^ify my brow [ « 



ADVICE 

TO Tat 

LA D I E% 

A 

SATIRE. 

Some cottotry-girl, scarce to a curtsey bred. 
Would I much rather than Cornelia wed. 

Dryden*8 Juvenal. 

PRCPACB. 

Whethir the author's . designs were benevolent 
or ill-natured, in the writing or pqblication of 
this piece to the world, it is uunecessary for him 
to discover ; f^rr even though ha should, with aU 
imaginable candour, express the motives which 
influenced him, every oue will presume upon the 

> The manner in which our author has conduct- 
ed this piece is very remarkable. None but one 
possessed of Mr. Blacklock's happy temper of mind, 
would have been so pleasant at his own expence. 
However, lest the ladies of future ages shoukl tlunk 
this humoroos description real, it may not be iin- 
proper to tell them, that, if the original bad been 
in the bands of a faithful painter, the picture would 
by np jODean9 hate been so ludicrous. 12. H* 



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2U 



BLACKLOCK-S POEMS. 



, 8^e right of judging as if no suctv discovery had i 
been made. Permit him therefore only to say, | 
^at this satire is neither absulately personal, 
nor comprehensive of all. To attack any par- I 
ticular character is no less detraction in verne 
than in prose ; or suppose the intention more i 
good-natured, it is confininc: those moral lessons ! 
to one, which may be applicable to a thousand, j 
To attack any ^f x or species f »r qualities insepa- 
rable from It, is really to write a satire against . 
Nature. S«i that the business of one who would ; 
assnnie a character so delicate an.i unwelcome, 
is neither to confine himself to individuals, nor ! 
attempt to include the whole. 

The author thought it proper to convey his senti- 
ments in an epistolary way, that the eye mi^ht 
fftill be directed to one principal figure. Such 
characters and passions as could not thus proper- 
ly be introduced, are brought m by freqiw>nt di- 
gressions, with as much ease as possible. For 
this T need only instance the characters of Flavia 
and Timandra. 

The m'!st effectual way either to gain or preserve 
the attention of readers in satire is, by a delicate 
and well>preserved irony. This the autlior has 
as seldom violated as the subjects he treated, 
and. bis own warmth of temper would permit. 
And thus, under pretence of advising, he exposes' 
to his pupil most of the vices and foibles of the 
•ex J first, in their earliest appearances in the 
World, then in marringe, as mistresses of a fami- 
ly, as mothers, and the difierent rules too often 
observed in dress abroad and. at home. This ac- 
count of our author's plan was thought reqqisite, 
lest the feader, when glancing over the poem, 
might lose bioiself in it. A. G. 



ADVICE TO THE LADIES. 



IKSCRIB O TO MISS • 



Credo pudicitiam, Satumo re^c, moratam 
In tcrris, visamque dio. ' 



Jut. 



,ln Satum*s reign, at Nature's early birth. 
There was that thing calPd Chastity on earth. 

Dryden. 

O THOU, whom still in vain I must adore, 
To Beauty much in debt, to Fortune more ; 
With wit and taste enough thy faults tp hide, 
To gild thy follj^, and to plume thy pride ; 
Soon shall my heart, a rebel to thy chaio^ 
Assert its frecd(fm, and thy pow'r disdain* 
Yet *ere kind Fate my liberty restore, [more) 

(When twice five hundred pounds can charm no 
For thee the Muse shall tune th' instructive lay. 
And thro' the maze of life direct thy way : . 
Tlie Muse, long study 'd in her sex's art, 
Tlie head designing, and eorrupted heart. 
For thee shall sing ; nor thoij too rashly blame 
The last fiiint struggles of a dying flame. 

The maid whom Natore with maternal care 
Has form'd to scatter ruin ev'ry where, 
When first on life her radiant eyes she throws, 
Dress, flatt ry, pleasure, billet-doux, and beaux ; 
Then, conscious of her weakness, let her fiy 
Tha tendu- lisp, the love-iliiioua*d eye^ 



Let her alike distrust bar strength and art. 
And cautious to some maiden aunt impart 
I'be important charge, her honour and her bent. 
But soon tlie first emotions of desire 
Shall with simplicity and tmth retire; 
The conscious tongue, inspir'd by distant tfcws, 
Its first alliartce with the soul shall lose ; 
The blood, by candour taught before to glow, 
Fro^ other motives to the cheeks shall flow; 
No more shall looks her sentiments explain. 
But ev'ry flexile feature learn to feign. 
Then let her issue forth to open light. 
In all the blaze of native beauty bright^ 
Insatiate, conquest let her still pursue. 
Secure from harm, and destin'd to undo. 
Yet while the first of public toasts she reigns. 
While half the nation strug^fles in her chains, 
If not like thee, with Fortune's bounty blest, 
Let her at last resign the world to rest, 
Eie Time his empire o'er her charms assume. 
And tinge with fkinter hue her native bloom. 

In vernal youth, and beauty's gayest pride. 
The charroin;; Flavia thus becomes a bride. 
For what bless'd youth, O Muse, with tmth declare, 
Could Fate resen-e the conquest of the fair } 
To what resistless art, what charms divine, 
What soft address, c<Mild she her heart resign ? 
Did youth, good-nature, sense, inflict the wouod? 
*' No — peevish seventy with five thousand pound." 
Hail holy ties ! by wond*rous charmik eodearH), 
Tlie paralytic nerve, and hoary beard. 
What mighty joys must bless such c^Qual love, 
When hand in band gay Spring and Winter move ? 
Beneath the specious semblance of a wife 
She flaunts a licensed prostitute for life. 
Why all this hurry ? Flavia was afraid 
Her fame should wither, or her beauty fade. 

Favour*d of Heav'n, far happier stirs are thine j 
Long as thy wish shall thy meridian shine, 
In youth or age still certain to command, 
And see thy bloom coeval with thy land. 

There is a time, to all the sex well known, 
When 'tis a wretched thing to be alone ; [teetDf, 
When pregnant Night with ghosts and spectres 
And sportive fairies prompt tomulttions dreams; 
Then, tho' no lower wiih thy breast inflame, 
Though spotless be thy fanc^ as thy name, 
In solitary fears no longer pme. 
But to protectmg man thy charms resign. 

And now, before the raptur'd swain should cloy 
With known embraces, and repeated joy ; 
Now is the time thy wit, thy pow'rs to strain, 
And tease him still some fifiv'rfte boon to gain. 
Now with eternal tempest stun his ears. 
Now vary all the scene with fits and tears; 
Now (pleas'd to view vicissitudes of pain, 
To view thy tyranny new- force obtain) 
To alt his tender arts and sof^ pursuit 
Still be thy tongue inexorably mute. 

Nor yet thy plagues to one alone confine. 
Portending public ruin comets shine; 
Angle fur hearts, and when y%m catch the ptey. 
Long on the line your foolish captive play. 

But should thy fond, oflScious fool be near. 
With jealous look^, and with attentive ear; 
Should he oil ev'ry private hour iotntde, 
Ar»d watch those pleasnres he was meaill to shrtHid j 
With alt thy skill his jealous rage ferment, 
The look iuviting;, and the soft complamt^ 



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ADVICE TO THE LADIES. 



tM5 



WKh eqotl fiitoor cv'rr krrer bl«8. 
The ireoile whisper, ana the fund caren ; 
Till the veak dope, iu every tender sense, 
Peeb, moie than Hell, the torture of suspense. 
Then if he dares to murmur at his fate, 
Tell him with smiles* repentance is too late. 
Bat if, with haughty tone, and lordly pride. 
He dietates serious rules thy life to guide ; 
With weeping eyes, and melting sounds, regret 
The destinM sorrows which on woman wait ; 
To tjrrant man subjected during life, 
A wretched daughter, and more wretched wife ; 
Alike unblev'd, whatever her form inspire, 
licentious ridicule, nr low desire ; 
She pioes away a life to bliss unknown ; 
A slave to evHy humour but her own-; 
While with despotic n6d, and watchful gaze, 
Her jealous master all her steps surreys : 
With strict reserve each lover if she treat. 
Then all her portion is contempt or hate ; 
But if more ^ee she spend the cheerful day 
Among the witty, innocent, and gay. 
From all her hc^iies domestic pleasure flies, 
Sospicioo brtatbes, and lo ! her honour dies. 
Such cruel stars oo woman still attend. 
And couldai thou hope their fury to suspend ? 

Perhaps s(>me lover may thy soul inflame, 
For nature in each bosom is the same ; 
Tbeoy but by slow degrees, bis fkte deckle. 
And gratify at once thy love and pride. 
For love and pride, beneath each dark disguise. 
Heave io yeur breast, and sparkle in jrour eyes: 
Uowe'er your sex in chastity pretend 
To bate the lover, but admire the friend, 
Desires more warm their natal throne maintain, 
Platonic pasbions only reach the brain. 

Though in the clo3rster's secret cell immur*d 
By bolts, by evVy name in Heaven secured ; 
Though in the close seragtio's walls coofinM ; 
Ev*n there your fency riots on mankind : 
Your persons may be fix'd, your forms recluse 
While minds are faithless, and while thoughts are 



Should Love at last (whom has not Love subduM?) 
Full on thy tense some killing form obtrude ; 
O ! then beware, nor with a lavish hand 
Too promptly offer, ere thy swain demand. 
Our mothers, great in virtues as in crimes, 
DisdainM the venal spirit of our times : 
Vice, oft repeird, their stubborn hearts essayed ; 
But if at last their yielding soul she sway'd. 
Nor hopes, nor fiean, nor interest could restrain, 
Hemv^ charmed. Hell threatea'd, Av*rice bribed in 

.vain. 
Fods they, and folly's common lot they KharVI, 
Instinct their guide, and pleasure their reward : 
Their wiser race pursue a happier scheme. 
Pleasure their instrument, and wealth their aim ; 
Nor maid , nor wife, unbrib*d her heart bestows, 
Each dart is tipp*d with gold which Cupid throws. 

Thus should the dice invite thy venturous hand. 
Or debts of honour fresh supplies denund ; 
Should china, monkeys, gems thy heart engage. 
The gilded coach, or liv*ry'd equipage ; 
Half meet, half shun his wish ; nor free, nor nice j 
Delay the pleasure, to inhance the price. 

While Night o*er Heav'n and Earth extends her 
shade. 
And darkar fi»male cooniDg lends its aid, 



Then, but with art, thy schemes of pleasure Uy» 
Ijest Argus with his hundred eyes survey : 
For gales officious ev'ry whisper bear, 
Each room has echoes, and each wall an ear. 
Yet Jealousy, oft fannM with opiate airs. 
Her charge abandons, and forgets her cares ; 
While Love awake everts hi^ happy pow'r. 
And consecrates to joy the fated hour* 

That well-concerted plans command success. 
Learn from Timandra's fortune, and confess. 
The clock strikes ten, in rain Timandra mourns. 
Supper is served, no husband yet returns. 
«* Not yet returned ! Good Heav'n avert my fcar^ 
What unforeseen mischi/nce detains my dear ? 
Perhaps in f^ome dark alley, by surprise. 
Beneath a villain's arm he murder'd lies; 
Or by some apoplectic fit deprntt. 
Perhaps, alas ! he seeks eternal rest. 
Whilst 1 an early widow mourn in vain? 
Haste ! fly, ye slaves, restore my lord again !»' 
She spoke, she shriekM aloud, she nio^ the bell, 
Then senseless, lifeless, on the couch slie fell. 
"Say, Muse; for Heav'n hides nothing from thy view. 
Nor Hell's deep track"; say, what could then ensue ? 

Lorenzo, touch'd with sympathy divine, 
HeanI the shrill sound, and recngais'd the sign ; 
He came, he spoke, and if report ssy true. 
Her life rekindled, and her feantHithdrewi 
The lover vanished, and the tnmult past, 
The unsuspecting husband came at last ; 
The spouse with equal jov his transports cnnm'd. 
Nor on her lips were Ca«iia's kivxii fbund i. 

Let scandal next no slight attention share. 
Scandal, the fav'rite science of the fair. 
O'er which her fancy brcMxIs the summer-day. 
And scheming wastes the midnight-taper's ray ', 
The laugh signiBcant, the biting jt>st. 
The whisper loud, the sentence half supprest. 
The seeming pity fur another's fame. 
To praise with coldness, or with caution blame; 
Still shall thy malice by those arts succeed. 
And ev'ry hour a reputation bleed. 
Thus shall thy words, thy looks, thy silence wound. 
And plagues be wafled in each whisper found. 
Nor on these topics long let fancy dwell ; 
In one unite the pedant and the belle : 
With learned jargon, ever misapply 'd, 
Harangue, illustrate, criticise, decide. 
For in our days, to ?ain a sage's name. 
We need not plod for sense, but banish shame : 
nis this which opens every fair-one's eyes. 
Religion, sense, and reas<»n to despise ; 
Tis thus their thout^hts afTucted fVeedom boast. 
And laugh at God, yet tremble at a ghost 
Truth is the object of each common view. 
The gazing crowd her naked beauties woo ; 
The fair such manners scorn, but, brave and free. 
Are damn'd for sacred singularity. 

Tbee with a mother's name should Fortune grace. 
And propagate thy vices in thy rare. 
Let whim, not reason, all thy conduct guide. 
And not the parent, but the rod, preside ; 
In all thy steps each wide extreme unite. 
Capricious tcndeniess, or groundless spite. 
Hence future a%en shall with triumph see 
Bridewell and Tyburn both enrich 'd by thee. 
To this our lives their hapless tenour owe, [flow. 
Ting'd with the poison'd source from whence thef 

I See Othello. 

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fl« 



BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



Ah ! m; bad (^iou8 Hesv^D alone consigoM 
A prey to burning wrath your worthless kind ; 
Or had Uie 6r5tfair she, to Hell ally'd. 
Creation's sole reproach, curs'd Ileav*n and dy'd; 
• Nbr introduced in Nature's faultlei^ frame * 
The wretched hentag^e of guilt and shame. 
Such the maternal pledges you bestow. 
Expressive earnests of eternal woe. 

Still as a constant curse regard thy home. 
Thy p1casurc*s penance, and thy beauty's tomb ; 
Now mad with rage, now languishing WKh ^een. 
There stJIl in wretched dishabile be seen: 
Long let thy nail its polish'd jet extend. 
Around thy neck thy greasy locks descend ; 
And round thee, mingling in one spicy gale, 
Kitchen and nurs'ry all their sweets exhale. 

But if in tnore extensive spheres you move. 
With all the glare of dress your form improve ; 
To aid its pomp let either India join, 
Kor once ^flect at whose expense you shine ; 
New airs, new fashions, new cumplexionf try. 
While paint and afiectation can supply. 
For Ueav'n and Nature, uniform, and old, 
One settled course in each production hold ; 
But belles, by native genius taught to please. 
Correct their Maker's want of taste with ease. 

But why this hasty rage, this sudden firight ? 
I meant to counsel, and you say I bite. 
Ah ! no ; Vleav'n knpws ' twas far Arom my intent ; 
The world's too much a sianer to repent : 
By itf example taught, I change my view. 
And swear tfte fair are right whate'er they da 



HORACE, 

' Of>K XIII. Book I. IiciTATep. 

CUM TU LTDIA, TSLSrai, &C 

Wsen Celia dwells on Pamon's name. 
Insatiate of the pleasing theme. 
Or in detail admires his charms. 
His rosy neck, and waxen arms ; 
O I then, jritb fiiry scarce supprest. 
My big heart labours in my breast ; 
From thought to thought across my soul 
Incessant tides of passion roll ; 
My blood akemate chills and glows. 
My wav'ring colour comes and goes ; 
While down my cheek the silent tear 
Too plainly bids my grief appear , 
Too plainly shows the latent flame 
Whose slow consumption melts my frame. 

I burn, when conscious of his sway. 
The youth elated I suney. 
Presume, with insolence of air 
To frown, or dictate to my fair; 
Or in the madness of delight. 
When to thy arms be wings bis flighty 
And having snatch'd a rude embrace. 
Prolines the softness of that face ; 
That face which Heav'n itself imbues 
With brightest charms and purest hues. 
Oh ! if my counsels touch thine ear, 
(Love'f ooomels always ve siocere) 



From his ungovem'd traiMporls fly, 

Howe>r his form may please thme eye; 

For conflagrations, fierce and strong. 

Are fatal still, but never Imig : 

And he who roughly treats the shrine. 

Where nMidest worth and beauty shine. 

Forgetful of his former fire. 

Will soon no mure these charms admire. 

How bless'd, how more than bless'd are they 
Whom love retains with equal sway; 
Whose flame inviolaly brif^'ht. 
Still bums in its meridian height; 
Nor jealous fears, nor cold disdain. 
Disturb their peace, nor break their chain : 
But, when the hours of life ebb fast. 
For each in sighs tUey breathe thetr last 1 



AN ELEGX TO A LADY, 

WITH BAMMOFD't BLCGIBS. 

O FotM'n aft once to feel and to ivmgktt 

llie DoUett passions of the human brteit. 
Attend the accent of love's fav^ite Ijrre, 

And let thy soul its moving force attest 
Expressive passion, in each sound convey'^ 

Shall all its joy disclose, and all its small; 
Reason to ropdest tenderness persuade. 

Smooth ev'ry thonght, and tranquillize the heart 
False is that wisdom, impotent and vain, [sign'd. 

Which scorns the sphere by Heav'n to nteQas- 
Which treats love*s purest fires with mock diidaio^ 

And, human, soars above the hun^n kind. 
Silent the Mute of elegy remaiti'd. 

Her plaints untaught by Nature to renew, 
Whilst sportive art deloSive sorrows feign'd, [titif I 

With bow much ease distingiriBh'd frooi the 
Ev'n polish'd Waller moanis the constant scorn 

Of Jtaccharissa, and hit fate m vain : 
WHh love his fcncy, not his heart is torn ; 

We praise his wit, but cannot share his pahL 
Such force has Nature, so supremely fair. 

With charms maternal her productions shine; 
The vivid grace and unaffected air. 

Proclaim them all her own, and all divine. 
Should youthful merit in such strakiB implore. 

Let bei^uty still vouchsafe a gentle tear. 
Wliat can the soul, with passion thriird, do more? 

The song must prove the Aentiment sincefr. 
Old cannii»g ne'er, with animated sirahi. 

To other breasts can warmth uufelt impart : 
We see her labour with industrious pain. 

And DMck the turgid in>pot^ce of art 



OLE TO^ AMVNTA. 

By folly led from snare to snafe. 
Of bitter gricf^ suspense, and care, 

A voluntarj* prey; 
With ev'ry flatt'ring good resign*d. 
Once more myself and peace to find^ 

Fiom thee 1 force zny way. 



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ELEGY. 



,sir 



Tet with relflcUDt step vA iW, 
From all that's dear wbik thus I fo. 

Some pity let me claim ! 
Len smart th' expiring martyr feels. 
While racks disiend or tortunng wheels 

Tear hit devoted frame. 
Nor Uniky like infants proqe to change. 
From tonlid Tiews or weak revenge, 

My resolutions flow : 
Tis God's, *tis Nature's great toehest. 
On every living soul imprest. 

To seek relief from woe ; 
Nor yet explore, with curious bent. 
What, known, would but thy soul torment. 

And all its hopes betray : 
When painftil truths invade the mind, 
£v'o wisdom wishes to be blind. 

And hates th' officious ray. 
Ye powers, who cordial and serene^ 
Protect the detar domestic scene. 

To your retreats I fly ; 
At length by your*s and reason's aid, 
1 may to rest this heart persuade. 

And wipe the tearful eye. 
There Nature, o'er the heart supreme. 
Shall every tender wish reclaim. 

Where'er they fondly stray 5 
There friendship's arms my foil sustain. 
When, languid with excess of pain. 

My fainting nerves give way. 
With eadence soft the flowing stream, 
Tlie iawniog breaze, the lambent gleam. 

Shall join their various power. 
To bid each passion's rising tide 
In philosophic ease subside. 

And sooth my pensive hour. 



AN ELEGY. 

Inschised to C— — S — 



■Esq. 



O pmtKHD, by ev'ry sympathy endear'd, 

Which soul with &oul in sadred ties pnite ; 
The hoar arrives, s«> long, so justly fear'd, 

Brings all its pangs, and sinks each joy in night 
For now from Ileav'o my unavailing pray'r 

Toas'd devious, mingles with the sportive gale; 
Ko tender arts can move my cruel fair. 

Nor all love's silent eloquence prevail. . 
Though from my lips no ?ound unmeaning flows. 

Though in each action fondness is exprest. 
No kind return shall terminate my woes, 

Nor heave th' eternal pressure from my breast 
Too well the weakness of my heurt I knew j 

Too well love's ptw'r my soul had felt before : 
Why did I then the pleasing ill pursue, 

Aud tempt the malice of my fate once more ? 
Conscious how few among the fair succeed. 

Who boast no merit but a tender heart. 
Why was my soul again to chains decreed. 

To unrewarded tears and endless smart ? 
The siren Hope, my tardy pace to cheer. 

In gay presage tlte short'ning prospect drcst^ 
With art fallacious brought the object near, 

Aod Inll'd each rising doubt in fat4l rest 



I saw success, or thoagfat at least I ssw, 

Beck'ning viith smiles to animate my speed. 
Reason was mute, irapress'd with trembKng awe. 

And mem'ry not one precedent coald plead. 
How curs'd is he who never Jeamt to fear 

The keenest plagues bis cruel stars porten(i ! 
Till o'er his head the bbck'ning clouds appear. 

And Heav'n's collected stomu at once descend f 

What further chmge of fbrtnne can I wait ? 

What oonsummatkm to the last despair } 
She flies, yet shows no pity for my fiste ; 

She sees, yet deigns not m my griefii to share. 
Yet the kind heart, where tender passions reign. 

Will catch the softness when it first appears; 
. Explore each symptom of the soflerer's pain, 

Sigh all hb sighs, and number all hh tear& 
This tribute from humanity is due; [bestow 

Wl^at then, just Heav'ns! what would not \m% 
Yet though the fair insensible I view. 

For others' bliss Lwould not change my woe, 

blind to truth, and to reflection bUnd, 
At length to wisdom and thyself return.! 

See Science wait thee wirji demeanour kind. 
Whose frown or absence no fond lovers mourn. 

Bounteous and free to all who ask her aid. 
Her sacred light anticipates their call. 

Points out the precipice on which they stray'd. 
And with maternal care prevents tho»r fall. * 

Daughter of God ! whose features all e]q>ress 

. Th' eternal beauty whence thy being sprung; 

1 to thy sacred shrine my steps address, [tongn^ 

And catch each sound from thy He«v'&.ptompted 
O ! take me wholly to thy fond embrace, 

Through all my soul thy radiant beams infuse; 
Thence evely cloud of pleasing errour chase; 

Adjust her organs, and enlarge her views. 
Hence, ever fbtt on virtue and on thee, 

No lower wish shall her attention claim. 
Till, Hke her sacred parent, pure and free, [came. 

She gain the native Hcav'n from whence she 



TO JOHN M'LAURIN, Biq. 

(now lord DREGHORN, ONI OF THE SENATORS OP 
THX COLLEGE OF JUSTICE.) 

wrrn the author's poems. 

O THOTi ! in whom maturely bright appears 
The flame of genius in the dawn of years ; . 
Whom sacred wisdom's awful voice inspires ; 
Whom Ileav'n-boru virtue's spoik-ss beauty fires 5 
Still let tl)c*e glorious aims engage thy view ; 
With bUaining nerves the arduous path pursue; 
For this revolve the sacred, ancient pag^ 
The raptur'd poet, and instructive sage ; 
Nor scorn the eflibrts of a m«dern Muse, 
Proud to reflect the glories they difl'use. 
Then, while with conscious joy exults thy sire », 
V^iewing his son to equal fame aspire. 
When the last echoes of my mortal lay, 
Shall feebly mix with air and die away ; 
Still shall my life beyond the grave extend. 
And ages know me for M*LaUrin's friend. 

1 The late celebrated Mr. Colin M'Laurin. 

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iis 



BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



EXTEMPORE VERSES, 



•POKBM AT THB PESIRB OF A GSMTLBlCAM. 

Tbou, genius of connubial love, attend; 
Let silent wonder all thy powers suspend ; 
Whilst to thy glory I devote my lays, 
And pour forth all my grateful heart in praise. 

In lifelen strains let vulgar satire tell, 
That marriage oft is mixt with Heav'n and Helt, 
That conjugal delight is sour'd with spleen, 
And peace and war compote the varied scene ; 
My Muse a truth sublimer can assert. 
And sing the triumphs of a mutual heart. 
Thrice happy they, who through life's varied tide, 
With equal peace and gentler motion glide ; 
Whom tho' the wave of fortune sinks or swells. 
One reason governs, and one wish impels | 
Whose emulation is to love the best ; 
Wlx> feel no bliss, but in each other blest ; 
Who know no pleasure but the joys they give, 
Nor cease. to love, but when th^ cease to live : 
If fate these blessings in one lot combine. 
Then let tfa' eternal page record them mine. 



TO THE RErEREND MR. SPENCE, 

LATl PItOPBSSOa OF POBTST AT OZFOim. 
WariTEN AT DUMFRIES IN TBS YEAS 1759. 

To tomes of dull theolofry conftn'd, 
(Eternal opiates of the active mhkl) 
Long lay my spirits, lull'd in deep repose, , 
Incapable alike of verse or prase. 
Unmarked by thought or action, every day 
Appear'4> and pass'd in apathy away. 

Our fi-iend, the doctor ', viewM with deep r^;ret. 
My sad catastrophe, my lifeless state ; 
Explored each ancient sage, whose labours tell 
The force of powerful herb, or ma;?ic spell. 
Physic in vain its boasted influence try*d ; 
My stupor incantation's voice defy'd : 
No charm could light my fancy's languid flame, 
No charm but friendship's voice and Spenoe's name. 
So from the cold embraces of the tomb, 
Involv*d in deep impenetrable gloom, [arise 

Should Heaven's great mandate bid some wretch 
How would he view the Sun with ravish'd eyes; 
Admire each part of Nature's beauteous scene, 
And welcome life and happiness again t 
Amaz'd the doctor stood, and lost in thought. 
Nor coidd believe the wonder he hnd wrought ; 
TiH, fir'd at last with sacerdotal pride, 
•' 'TIS mine ; — the work is all my own," he cried. 
** Henceforth some nobler task my might shall 
I mean some-lofly mountain to remove, [prove. 
With woods and fountains bid it wing its way 
Thro' yielding air and settle in the 5ca.»» 
But recollecting whence U^e virtue flow'd 
To which returning lifs and sense I ow'd. 
He snatch'd his pen, and with majestic tone; 
•* Hence Indolence and Sloth," hecry'd, " be gone; 
Me fri^ship's spirit, Spence's name inspire. 
My heart is pregnant, and my soul on fire ; 
Thought crowds on thought, my brisk idesfs flow. 
And much I long to tell, and much to know." 

1 Rev. Mr, Jameson. 



Thus exorcised, to Letiie's dismal shore 
Fled Indolenoe, and sought her haunts of yors| 
With all her train forsook the poefs breast. 
And left the man completely dispossess'd. 
If to your very name, by bounteous Heav'n, 
Such blest, restoring influence has been giv'o, 
How must your sweet approach, your aspect kwl, 
Your soul-reviving converse, warm the mind ! 



TO DR. REATTIE. 

wrra thb authob's pobhs. 

O, WARM*n by inspiration's brightest Are, 

For whom the Moses string their fiiv'rite lyie, 
Tho' with superior genius blest, yet deign 

A kind fetation to my humbler stnun. 
When florid youth impell'd. and fortune smil'4, 

The vocal art my languid houis beguil'd : 
Severer studies now my life engage; 

Researches doll, that quench poetic rage; 
From morn to ev'ning destin'd to explore 

Th' verbal critic and the scholiast's lore ; 
Alas ! what beam of heav'niy ardour shines 

In musty lexicons and school divines ? 
Yet to the darimg ol^ect of my heart, 

A short, but pleasing retrospect I dart; 
Revolve the labours of the tunefnl quiie. 

And what I cannot imitate, admire. 
O could my thoughts with all thy spirit glow ; 

As thine harmonious, could my accents flow; 
Then, with approving ear, might'st thou atteod, 

Nor m a Blacklodk blush to own a friend. 



TO THE REV. DR. OGILVIE. 

I decus, i, nostrum, melioribus utere fstis. 

VnfiL 

Dbab to the Muses and their tuneful train. 
Whom, long pursu'd, I scarce at last regain; 
Why should'st thou wonder, i^ when I^e declioei, 
Hb antiquated lyre thy friend resigns. 
Haply, when youth elate with native force. 
Or emulation fires the generous horse. 
He bounds, he springs, each nerve elastic straiai, 
And if not victor, some distinction gains; 
But should the careless master of the steet*. 
Cherish no more his mettle, or his speed. 
Indignantly be shuns all future strife. 
And wastes in indolent regret his life. 
Such were his eflbrts, such his coM reward. 
Whom once thy partial tongue pronounc'd a bard; 
Excursive, on the gentle gales of spring. 
He rov'd, whilst favour impM his timid wing : 
Exhausted genius now no more inspires. 
But mourns abortive hopes and &ded fires ; [grtc'd, 
The short-liv'd wreath, which once his temples 
Fades at the sickly breath of squeamish taste ; 
Whilst darker days his fainting flames Mumure 
In cheerless gloom and winter premature. 
But thou, my friend, whom higher omens lead. 
Bold to achieve, and mighty to succeed, 
For whom fresh laurels, in eternal bloom, 
Impregnate Haav'n and Earth With rich parftioi^l 



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TO A FRIEND GENEALOGY OP NONSENSE. 



219 



Pvrsoe thy tetiii'd oovie, anert tby fame ; 
Et'o Piondeoce shall Tindicate thy claim ; 
F.T*D Nature's ^reck, resaonding thro' thy lays. 
Shall io it's final crash proclaim tby praise. 



TO A FRIEND, 



W VBOSI HEALTH AND SUCCESS THE AUTHOE HAD 
HSAEO, AFTEE A LONG AESEUCB. 

Tanv dearest of friends to my heart erer known, 
"Whose enjoyments and sufferings have still been 

my own. 
Since Mrly we met in snsoeptible youth* 
^^lien gbwing for virtue, and toiling for truth ; 
To God one petition, with steady regard, 
H'itb ardour inoeaaant, my spirit prefierr'd, 
Tby life to protract, and thy blessings augment. 
Now my widt is obtain'd, and my bosom content. 

You ask, by what means 1 my livelihood gain, 
Aod bow my long conflict with fortune maintain ? 
The question is kind, yet 1 cannot tell why, 
Tis bard for a spirit like mine to reply. 
If a frieod with a friend must be free and sincere. 
My testore is simple and sober my cheer ; 
But tbo* few my resources, and vacant my purse, 
Ooe comfort is left me, things cannot be worse, 
nis vain to repine, as philosophers say, 
So I take what is offered, and live as I may ; 
To my wants, still returning, adapt my supplies, 
And find in my boi»e what my fortune denies. 

To the powerful aod great had I keenly apply'd, 
Hsd I toil'd for their pleasures, or flatter'd their 
pride, [flamed, 

lo splendour and wealth I perhaps might have 
For leamiog, for virtue, for ev'ry thing fismM. 
Ibe gamester, tb' informer, the quack, and the 

smuggler, 
Tbc bully, the player, the mimic, the juggler. 
The dispenser of libels, the teller of fortunes. 
And otheni of equal respect and importance, 
Fmd high reputation and ample subsistence, 
VihJkt craving necessity stands at a distance. 

Bot who couk! determine, in soundness of brain. 
By prieiithood, or poetry, life to sustain ? 
Oar Maker to serve, or our souls to improve, 
Are tasks self-rewarded, and labours of love. 
Such with hunger and thint are deservedly paid, 
Tis glorious to starve by so noble a trade : 
Tis guilt and ambitionrfor priests to pretend 
'ilieir £ime to advance, and thehr fortune amend ; 
Tbeir feme and their fortune, by pious mankind. 
Are such trifles esteem'd as no mortal should mind. 

Nor less by the world is the Heav'n-gifted bard, 
In his visions abandoned to And his reward. 
Cjo sensations of wretchedness ever invade 
That breast which Apollo his temple has made ? 
On tbe top of Parnassus his hermitage lies ; 
And who can repine, when so near to the skies ? 
For him sweet ambrosia spontaneously grows ; 
For him Agannippe spontaneously flows. 
Tbo* tbe bev'rage be cool, and ethereal the di^t, 
Fme souls, thus regaPd, should be happy and quiet 
But I, who substantial nutrition require, 
Wouki rather the Muses should fised than inspire. 
Aod whilst lofty Pindus my fancy explores, 
To Earth the wild fugitive hanger restores. 



Yet lest what I mean be obscurely express^. 
No call is unans^er'd, no wish unredress*d : 
But other resources supplied what was wanting, [ing. 
Leu barren employments than preaching or chant* 
For thee, whom I glory to claim as my friend. 
May stars more propitious thy labours attend ; 
On Earth be thy prospect still smiling and bright. 
And thy portion hereafter immortal delight 



THE GENEALOGY OF NONSENSE. 

WrrH long and careful scrutiny in rain,' 
I searched th' obscure recesses of my brain ; 
The Muses oft, with mournful voice I woo'd. 
To find a plea for silence if they could. 
But thro' my search not one excuse appear'd^ 
And not a Muse would answer if she heard. 
Thus I remain'd in anxious, sad suspense. 
Despairing aid from reason or from sense. 
Till from a pow'r, of late well known to fome, 
Tho* not invok'd, the wish'd solution came. 

Now night incumbent shaded half the ball. 
Silence assum'd her empire over all. 
While on my eyes imperfect slumbers spread 
Their downy wings, and hover'd round my bead; 
But still internal sense awake remain'd. 
And still its first solicitude retain'd; 
When, lo ! with slow descent, obscurely bright, 
Yet ck)th'd in darkness visible, not light, 
A form, high tow'riog to the distant i^kies. 
In mimic grandeur, stood before my eyes ; 
As after storms waves faintly lash the shore. 
As hollow winds in rocky caverns roar, [ear. 

Such were the sounds which pierc'd my trembling 
And chili'd my soul with more than common fear. 

Thus spoke the pow'r : — «* From yon extended 
void. 
Where Jove's creating hand was ne'er employ'd. 
Where soft with bard, and heavy mix'd witb light. 
And heat with cold, maintain eternal light ; 
Where end tlie realms of order, form, and day; 
Where Night and Chaos hold primeval sway ; . 
Their first, their ever-dariing ofiispring view. 
Who Qomes thy wonted calmness to renew. 
Ere yet the mountains rear'd their heads on high, ' 
Ere yet the radiant Sun illum'd the sky. 
Ere swelling hills, or humble vales were seen. 
Or woods the prospect cheer'd with waving green ; 
Ere Nature was, my wond'rous birth I date. 
More old than Chance, Necessity, or Fate ; ' 
Ere yet ^e Muses toucfi'd the vocal lyre. 
My reverend mother and tumultuous aire 
Beheld my wond'rous birth with vast amaze. 
And Discord's boundless empire roar'd my pmise. 

•* In me, whate'er by Nature is diigoio'd. 
All opposite extremes involv'd you find : 
Bom to retain, by Fate's eternal doom. 
My sire's confusion, and my mother's gloom. 
Where'er extend the realms of letter'd pride. 
With uncontroll'd dominion I preside ; 
Thro' its deep gloom I dart the doubtful ray. 
And teach the learned idiots where to stray: 
The labouring chymist, and profound divine. 
Err, not seduc'd by Reason's light, but mine. 
From me alone these boast the wond'rous skill 
To make a myst'ry, more mysterious still ; 



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BLACKLOCK'9 POEMS. 



i 



While tbofe panne by bcmdo^ not their owd^ 
The universal cure, and philosophic stone. ^ ' 
Thus, when the leaden pedant courts my aid. 
To cover ignerance with leaniing's shade. 
To swell the folio to a proper size. 
And throw the clonds of art o*er Nature*! eyet, 
My soporific pow'r the sages own ; 
Hence by the sacred name of Dulness known ; 
But if ntei-curial scribblers pant for £une. 
Those I inspire, and Nonsense is my name. 
Sustain^ by me, thy Muse first took her flighty 
I circumscribed its limits and its height; 
By me she sinks, by me she soars along; 
I,rule her silence, and I prompt her song.** 

My doubts resolved, the goddess wing*d her flight 
Dissolved in air, and mbc'd with formleu night 
Much more the Muse, reluctant, must supprefs. 
For all the pow^r of time and fate confess; 
Too soft her accents, and too weak her pray'r, . 
For time.or fate, or cruel poftf tobear. 



Te nymphs and swains, whom lore inqpiiai 
With all his pure and foithfnl fireiy 
Hither with joyful steps repair; 
You who his tenderest transports share I 
For lo ! in beauty's gayest pride. 
Summer expaiida her bosom wide ; 
The Sun no more in ekMidii losbrin'd, 
Dart» all his glories anoonfln*d ; 
The feather'd choir from every i^ray 
Sakite Melissa's natal day. 

Hither ye njrmphs and shepherds battel 
Each with a flow'ry chaplet grac'd. 
With transport whHe the shades resound. 
And Nature spreads her charms around ; 
While ev'ry breeze eithales perfumes. 
And Blon his mute pipe resumes ; 
With Bfon long disusM to play, 
Salute MeHssa's nataT day. 

For Bion long deplor*d bis pdn 
iThro* woods and devious wikb i» vain; 
At last impelled 'bf deep despair, 
The swain preferred bis ardent pray'r ; 
His ardent pray Y MeKssa he«rd| 
And every iatent sorrow ohcev*d| 
His days with sodal -raptare Mest, 
And soothed each amxloiis care to reit. 
Tone, shepherds, tune tlie fcative lay, 
And haiLMelitta'snatelday* 

With Natmre's incense to tbe skies 
Let all your fervid wished rise,, 
That Heav'n and Earth may J6in tasbed 
Their choicest blessinp on htr head; • 

That years protracted, as they flow. 
May pleasures more sublime bestow ; 
While by succeeding years surpast, 
Tbe happiest still may be tbe last; 
And thus each eircling Sun display, 
Anore aunpigttut naUl day* 



ODJB TO AURORA^ 



ON MKIISSA'S BIRTH-DAT. 



Op Time and Va/bm eldest bora. 
Emerge, tbou rosy-fiogerM Mom, 
Emerge, in purest dress array'd. 
And chase from Heav'n night's ennous ihade^'* 
That I once more may, pleas*d, aorvey. 
And hail Melissa's natal day. 

Of Time and Nature eldestim^ 
Emerge, tJiou rQBy.finger*d Mem : 
In order at thcr eastern gate 
The Hours to draw thy chariot wait ; 
Whilst Zephyr, on his balmy wingv. 
Mild Nature's fragrant tribute brings. 
With odoura sweet to strew thy way. 
And grace the bland, revolving day. 

But as thou lead'st the radiant sphere, 
That gilds its birth, and mark* the year. 
And as his s tr o n ger glories rise, 
Diffus'd ar^mid th* expanded skiee. 
Till ckith'd with beams serenely bright, 
AU Heav'ipB vast concave flames with ligM; "* 
So, whea,. thro* fife's protracted day, 
MeUssa still pursues her way, 
Her virtues with thy splendour vie. 
Increasing to tbe mental eye : 
Tho* less oenspienQus, not less dear, 
^ng may they Eton's prospect cheer ; 
So shall his bcwt no more repine, 
Bless'd with her rays, tho* nib'd o# fkfoe» 



TO DR. EVAKS. 

DsAa Doctor, as it is most fit. 

Your accusation i admit 

In all its force, nor rack my bi^iin. 

By quirks and subterfuges vain. 

To throw my conduct into shade. 

And thus your just rebuke evade. 

But, since convicted now I stand. 

And wait correction frbm your 1 

Be merciful as thou art strong. 

And recognise tbe power of song. 

Fbr, while in accents deep and hoarse. 

She breathes contritioa and reanne. 

The Muse's penitential strain. 

For parddn cannot sue in vain. 

But, let me, with profound respect, 

A sad mistake of your's correct 

Wben^ooce th' Aooian maids discover 

Some fisvour for a youthful lover. 

You think their pasnon still as keen 

For him at sixty as sixteen. 

Alas the sex you little know, 

Their ruling passion is a beau. 

The wrinkl'd brow, th' extioguisb'd eye. 

From female hearts ne'er gain a «gfa. 

The brilliant glance, the cheek vermil, ' 

Th' elastic nerve, th' enchanting smile. 

These, only these, can hearts confine 

Of ladies human, or divine. 

No mind, immortal tba' it be, 

Vrom life's victssitodes U firee. 

The man who leboun to acquit 

Of imperfecti^ httnaa wit. 



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TO MR. DALZEL ... TO DR. DOWNMAN. 



Ki 



Win find be undertakes a task 
That proves what his opponents ask ; 
And fed, to bis eternal oost. 
His ovn attemi^ refute his boast 
Forc'd by experience and sensation, 
I make tbis bumble declaration : 
For sbot'Id my pride my words restrain. 
These lays would show tbe fisct too plain. 
' OotbM in a lion's skin, the ass 
At first migbt for a lion pass; 
But when tbe stupid creatnre bray*d. 
His real self be soon betray'd, 
And erery stick and every stone 
Were ns'd, to sbow bim he was known. 
Tkus battered by sarcastic sneers, 
I sbat my moutb and hide my ears; 
BIcss'd, if unbnrt I may elude 
Tbe obserration of tbe crowd. 
Yet ^itc of all the ills tbat prey 
On ebbing life, from day to day, 
It warmM my veins witb youthfhl fire. 
And rais'd my beart a cubit bigber, 
Td bear your own kind words express 
Yoar competition and suocess. 
So, wben portentous symptoms threat 
Your patients with impending fiite. 
At your approach may they recede, 
And sickness lift its drooping head ; 
yyiale health and joy your nod obey, 
And fly where'er y6u point their way. 
One great achievement still remains. 
One triumph, worthy of your pains ; 
Could you tbe thefts of Time restore. 
And make me what I was of yore. 
In spite of Fortune's utmost spleen, 
MTbfcb bards oft feel to intervene, 
I might, perhaps, as friend with friend. 
At ShreM>ury some evenings spepd ; 
There, in abuse that meant no harm. 
Assert tbe soul of humour warm; 
And laugh at those whose lives provoke 
The satire we effuse in joke. 
And, now, perhaps, you wish to know,. 
With your old friends, how matters go ; 
What state of health they still enjoy 
And how their various hours employ } 
Bat this detail more glibly flows 
In easy style and humble prose; 
And, with nnore patience, will be heard. 
To my Melissa when trantferr'd. 
If faults acknowledg'd be forgiven. 
And all our former odds made even. 
Pray write me soon, to let me see 
How much superior you can be 
To doctors in divinity. 
Meanwhile, believe me still sincere. 
Whatever guise my conduct wear. 
And still with friendship, no less f^ent. 
Your most obedient, humble servant* 



TO MR.DALZEL, 
raortssoa of oebbk in tbb UMirufmr 0f 

XDINSUROM. 

ITi fairy fields, where youthful fancy stray'd. 
Ye landscapes vested in eternal green, 

pease my reluctant absence to upbraid ; 
Each jDj I lote^ when yoo no more are seen. 



The raptur'd heart, th' enthnsiasiic eye^ 

The bright conception darting through the mind 
From my remotestvbopes how far they fly, * 

And leave a gloomy solitude bebiud } 
Ethereal people of each glowing scene. 

Which m»litation pictur'd m my sight. 
Of ever beauteous and celestial mien : 

Why sink you thus amid the shades of night ^ 
No more the harp shall Polyhymnia tune, 

No warbling flute Euterpe's breath inspire. 
Ah ! why for ever silent, why so soon 

Should every Muse forbear to strike the lyre? 
To me a faded form e'en Nature wears ; 

Its vivid colours every flow'r resigns, 
The blasted lawns no tint of verdure cheers. 

Shorn of his beams the Sun more faintly shiao^ 
Age, hood-wink'd Age, exterminates the whole, 

She o'er the prospect night and horronr spieada t 
Her endless winter intercepts the soul. 

From limpid fountains and enphanted meads. 
O come, Dalzel *, whose comprehensive view, 

Whate'er the Muse exhibits, can survey. 
The flying phantom teach me to pursue. 

Direct my course, and animate my lay. 
Yet from th' ungrateful bosom of the tomb 

Should Jason's magic wife emerge once mor^ 
Nor thou, nor she, my genius could relume ; 

Nor thou, nor she, the flame of youth restoicw 



TO DR. DOWNMAN^ 

IM LONDON. 

To the fond Muse, who sings of rural joya^ 
Involved in politics, and smoke a d noise. 
Her Scotian sister gratolation sends, 
Pleas'd that her taste, not on her place dependl. 
For oft contagions in the city breeze. 
Hovering unseen, unfclt, the fancy seize : 
Surrounding objects catch the roving eye. 
And tastes with situations oft comply. 
There party-passion wears the form of truth. 
Pleasure in virtue's mask seduces youth. 
Still handing round the sweet Grcean bowl, 
To warp the judgment, and pervert the soul. 
Ye eariy plans, and wishes, then adieu. 
We seek not what is fair, but what is new ; 
Each former prepossession leaves the heart. 
And Nature yields to meretricious art. 

Oh ! if in Heav'n some chosen curse remain, 
Nor thunders roll, nor lightnings flash iu vain, 
Curs'd be the wretch who cities first design'd,* 
To blast each native worth of human kind. 
When first Astrea saw their structures rise, 
Fir'd with indignant rage, she sought the skies. 
Th' ingenuous wish, that in one wide embrace 
Clasp'd Nature's frame, and glow'd for all her motg 
Fair Hospitality, in blessing blest, ^ 
Primeval Candor, of translucent breast. 
With horrour shuddering at the baneful sight, 
jR«tir'dy the vow'd companions of her flight : 

1 This gentleman delivered a course of critical 
.lectures on poetry, which did honour to tbe semi- 
nary in which he is engaged, and to the coontir 
where he lives. 

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sa« 



BIACKLOCiTS POUf S; 



Then from ber botom Hell disgoig'd her trafaiy 
llie lust of pleasure, and the thirst of gam. 
Then Pride luxurious rear'd her crest on bigfay 
Deceit then forg'd the name, and oogg*d the die« 
Then lawless tyrants from the throue decreed 
Virtue to toil, and Innocence to bleed. 
In heart a tiger, tho' in looks a child/ 
Anasstnation stabb'd bis friend, and smiPd; 
While Pegury, with unaverted eye. 
Invoked the ^od ol truth, to seal a lie. 

O conscious Peace ! to few indulg'd by fate, 
When shall I find once more thy dear retreat ? 
When shall my steps the guiltless scenes explore. 
Where Virtue's smiles the age of gold restore ? 
Where Charity to all her arms extends. 
And as Ae numbers fisces, numbers friends ? 
Where unaffected Sympathy appears 
In cordial smiles, or nodissembled tears ? 
Where Innocence and Mirth, the fisrmer^ wealth, 
Walk hand and hand with Exercise and Health } 
Nor when the setting Sun withdraws his ray, 
And labonr closes with the closing day. 
Would I, with haughty insolence, avoid 
The scenes where simple Nature is eojoy'd ; 
But pleas'd, in frolic, or discourse engage 
With sportive youthj or hospitable age. 
Exert my talents to amuse the throug 
In wond*Tous legend, or in rural song. 

Thus, by no wish for alteration seiz'd. 
My neighbours pleasing, with my neighbours pleasPd, 
Exempt from each excess of bliss or woe. 
My setting hours should uniformly flow. 
Till Nature to the dust these limbs consign'd, 
Leaving a shon, but well-eam*d fome behind. 

For thee, whom Nature and the Muse inspire 
With taste refined, and elegant desire, 
Tis thine, where'er thou mov'st, thy Uiss to find,, 
Drawn from the native treasures of thy mind i 
To brighten life with love or friendship's ray. 
Or through the Muse's land in raptures stray. 
Oh ! ' may fhy soul her fav'rite objects gain. 
And not a wish aspire to Heav'n in vain ! 
Full on thy latest hours may genius shine. 
And each dome«tic happiness be thine I 



TO THE SAME. 

Tis, *ti8 resolv'd, in Nature's spite. 
Nay more, resolv'd in rhyme to write : 
Tho' to my chamber's walls confin'd 
By beating rains, and roaring wind^ 
Tho' low'ring, as the wintry sky, 
Involv'd in spleen my spirits he, 
Tho' cold, as hyperborean snows^ 
No feeble ray of genius glows. 
To friendship tribute let me pay. 
And gratitude's behests obey. 

Whilst man in this precarious station 
Of struggle and of fluctuation. 
Protracts his being, is it strange 
That humour, genius, wit should change } 
The mind which most of force inherits, 
Must feel vicissitude of spirits : 
And happiest they, who, least deprest. 
Of life's bad bargain make the bcMt 
Thus, tho* my song he cant commend, 
Th' attempt will please my gentle fricod ; 



For he of life's uncertain round 
The cloudy and serene hath (bond. 

Cheering, as summer's balmy «hov<eri^ 
To thirsty herbs and languid flowera. 
Your late epistle reacb'd my ear. 
And fill'd my heart with joy sincere. 
Before my eyes in prospect plam 
AppeaHd the consecrated fane. 
Where Friendship's holy presence sbtnef, 
And grief disarms, and bliss refines. 
Long may the beAuteons fabric rise. 
Unite all hearts aod charm alt eyes. 
Above contingency and time. 
Stable as Earth, at Heav'n sublime ? 
And while its more than solar light 
Thro' Nature's frame flows piercing bright. 
May we thro' life's ambiguous maze 
Imbibe its most auspicions nyt ; 
View unimpair'd its sweet existence. 
By length of years, or local distance ^ 
And while our hearts revolve the past, 
StOI feel its warmest moments last ! 
With each kind wish which friendship kDOV% 
For 3ron Melissa's bosom glows. 
Her heart capacious and sincere. 
Where those once prix'd must still be dear, 
Tho^ long of silence she complains. 
For Thespia all her Jove retains. 

Now, whether prose yoirr fancy please. 
The style of elegance and ease. 
Or whether strains so debonair, 
As might from anguish charm despair. 
To us at least a pittance deal. 
Who long to see your hand and leaL 



TO MELISSA. 

waimir iv ths rxAa 17901 

Dsak, welcome sharer of my breast. 
Of friends the kindest and the best. 
What numbers shall the Muse employ, 
I'o ipeak my gratitude and joy ? 
Twice ten times has the circling year. 
And oiiener, finisb'd its career, 
Sinoe first in Hymen's sacred bands. 
With mingl*d hearts we join'd our hands. 

Aus^ious hour ! from whence I date 
file brightest colours of my fait ; 
From whence felicity alone* 
To my dejected heart was known. 
For then, my days from woe to screen. 
Thy watchful tenderness was seen ; 
Nor did its kind attentions miss 
To hcighteaand improve my bliss. 

Oft have I felt iU pleasmg powec 
Delude the solitary hour; 
Oft^has it charm'd the cruel smart. 
When pain and anguish rack'd my beartv 
Thus may our days which yet remain. 
Be free from bitterness and pain ! 
So lim(M streams still purer grow. 
For ever bright'ning as they flow. 
When Death most come, for come it will» 
And I Heav'n's purposes fulfil. 
When heart with heart, and soul with tauX 
Blending, I reach hfe'i utmost goal. 



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COMPUMENTARY VERSES. 



f^S 



When Nature^ debt tbif firsme shall pay. 
And earth lecdre my mortal clay ; 
Not aacoBceitiM ftbalt thoa behold 
My ashea mingling with the mould ; 
Bat drop a tear and heave a sigh. 
Yet hope to meet me in the sky ; 
When, life's continual suff'riDgs o'er,, 
We joyfiil meet, to part no more. 



OS DR. BhACKLOCRS BIRTU-DAYK 

BY MR& BLACKWCSL 

PaorrnoDs day 1 to me for ever dear ; 
Oh ! may'it thoa still return from year to year, 
Seplete with choicest bleaahigt Uear'n can send. 
And guard from ev'ry harm my dearest friend. 
May we together tread life's various maze. 
In strictest virtue, and in grateful praise 
To tbee, kind Providence, who hast ordain'd 
One for the other sympathetic friend. 
And wbeo life's current in our veins grows cpld. 
Let each the other to their breast enfold 
Their other dearer aelf ; with age opprest, 
Hieo, gmcious Ood, receive us both to rest; 



M. DOTTKMAN TO MRS, BLACKLOCK, 

PCCASIOKED BT A COPT OP VSaSBS SHE AODaSSSSD 
TO UEa HD8SAN0 *• 

Ai round Parnassus on a day 
Melissa idly chanc'd to stray. 
She gatberd from its native bed. 
As there it grew, a rose-bud red. 
Meaatioie Calliope came by, 
And Hymen, with obsequious eye, 

» Tljese verses, the only verses ever attempted 
by Mrs. Biacklock, are to be considered, not as a 
sptcimen of a poetical genius, which she never pre- 
tended to possess, but as an expression of her af- 
fection for ber husband, and her veneration for that 
amiable dispoation, and that divine gift of poetry, 
with which he was so eminently bleased. Editor. 

^ 8aa the preceding. 



Watching her looks, gallantly trod ; 

Fair was the Muse, and bright the god. 

The mortal, at th* unwonted sight 

Was struck with dread, as well she might. 

When thus the queen ; " How could'st thou daw. 

Without my passport, venture here ? 

That rose-bud cast upon the plain, 

And seek thy pristine shades again." 

But Hymen thus the Muse bespoke ; 

" Oh ! goddess dear, thine ire revoke ! 

For, if I err not, on my life. 

This wanderer is our Blacklock's wife.** 

At which she smiling milder grew. 

For him of yore full well she knew. 

Then Hymen thus addressed the dame ; 

" She pardons, tho' she still must blame. 

But take the rose-bud in your hand, 

And say, you bring, at my command. 

That present from Parnassus' grove, 

A grateful flower of married love." 



DR. DOWNMAN TO DR. BLACKLOCK. 

Edina»s walls can Fancy see. 
And not, my Biacklock, think on thee ? 
Ere I that gentle name forget. 
This flesh must pay great Nature's debt 
Hail I worthiest of the sons of men. 
Not that the Muses heJd thy pen. 
And plac'd before thy mental sight 
Each hue of intellectual lijfht: - 
But that a generous soul is thine. 
Richer by far than Piutus* mine ; 
With utmost niceness fram*d to feel 
Another's woe, another's weal; 
Where friendship heap'd up all her store. 
That glorioas treasure of the poor. 
To grovelling vanity unknown. 
Not to be purchased by a throne ; 
Where patience, resignation's child. 
Misfortune of her power beguil'd ; 
Where love her pur|>le cestus bound. 
Where a retirement virtue found. 
Contentment a perpetual treat. 
And honour a delightful seat; 
Religion could with pleasure feast. 
And mat no biiyt, tho' a priest 



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THE 



POEMS 



OP 



niCHARD OWEN CAMBRIDGE. 



▼«t.XVlIL 



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THE 

LIFE OF RICHARD OWEN CAMBRIDGE, 

BY MR. CHALMERS. 



Richard Cambridge was bom in LoDdon, Feb. \A„\7\7, of ancestors be- 
loogmg to the county of Gloucester. His father, who was a younger brother, bad been 
bred to business as a Tuikey merchant, and died in London not long after the birth 
of his son, the care of whom then devolved on his mother and his maternal uncle 
Thomas Owen, esq. who adopted him as his future representative. He was sent to 
Eton school, where quickness of parts supplied the place of diligence, and although he 
was avene to the routine of stated tasks, he stored his mind with classical knowledge, 
sod amused it by an eager perusal of works addressed to the imagination. He be- 
came early attached to tlie best English poets,' and to those miscellaneous writers who 
delineate human life and character. A taste likewise for the beauties of rural nature 
began to display itself at this period, which he afterwards exemplified at his seat in 
Gloucestershire, and that at Twickenham. 

In 1 734, he entered as a gentleman commoner of St. John s College, Oxford, and» 
without wbhing to be thought a laborious scholar, omitted no opportunity of improv- 
ing his mind in such studies as were suitable to his age aud future prospects. His first, 
or one of his first poetical effusions was on the Marriage of the Prince of Wales, which 
was published with the other verses composed at Oxford on the same occasion. In 
]737f he became a member of Liiicob's Inn, where he found many men of wit and 
congenial habits, but as he had formerly declined taking a degree at Oxford, he had now 
as little inclination to pursue the steps that lead to the bar, and in 1741, in his tweuly- 
foarth year, he married Miss Treuchard, the second daughter of George Trenchard, 
esq. of Woolverton m Dorsetshire, a lady who contributed to his happiness for up- 
wards of half a century, and by whom he had a family equally amiable and affection- 
ate. She died Sept. 6, 1806, having survived her husband four years. 

He now settled at his family seat of Whitminster in Gloucestecshire, for seven or 
eight years, where hb life, though easy aud independent, was never idle or useless. 
While he continued to cultivate polite literature, his more active hours were employed 
in heightening the beauties of the scenery around his seat ; for this purpose he made 
the little river Stroud navigable for some dbtance, and not only constructed boats for 



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2^8 UFE OF CAI^IBRIDGE. 

pleasure or carriage, but iotrodaced some ingenious iraprovements ni Uuil bimncb of 
naval architecture, which were approved by the most competent judges^ In one of 
these boats or barges, he had the honour to receive the prince and princess of Wales, 
and other distinguished visitors, who were delighted with the elegance of his taste, 
and the noVelty and utilityof his various plans. For the sports of the field he had 
little relish ; not, however, from a motive of tenderness, for he practised the bow and 
arrow, and we read, but with no great pleasure, that *' the head of a duck, swimming 
in the river, was a favourite mark, which he seldom missed.^ As be ever 
endeavoured to unite knowledge with amusement, he studied the history of arehery, 
and became a connoisseur in its weapons as used by^modem anti ancient nations. The 
collection he formed while this pursuit occupied his attention, he afterwards sent to 
siD^hton Lever's museum. 

During his residence at Wbitminster, he wrote his most celebrated poem. The 
Scribleriad. The design he imparted to some of his particular friends, and commu- 
nicated his' progress from time to time* He had naturally a rich fund of humour, 
which he could restrain within the .bounds of delicacy, or expand to the burlesque^ 
. as his subject requured, and the topics which he introduced had evidently been the 
result of a course of multifarious reading. But such was his diffidence in his own 
powers, or in the sincerity of his friends who praised his (aboifrs, that he lakl hia 
poem asid^ for inany years afker it was completed, until he could ascertain, by their 
impatience, that they consulted hu reputation m advismg hun to publish it 

In consequence of the death of hb uncle (in 1748) to whom he was heur, he added 
the name of Owen to his own. He now took a house in London, but after about two 
years residence, finding the air of London disagree with himself and ' with Mrs. Cam- 
bridge, he purchased a villa at Twickenham, immediately opposite Richmond hiD* 
He quitted at the same time his seat in Gloucestershke, and with it all desire of fisirther 
change, for he resided at Twickenham during the remainder of his veiy long life. 
How much he improved this villa, cannot now l>e remembered by many : two gene- 
ntions have admired it only in its improved state. His mode of living has been af- 
fectionately yet justly described by his biographer. He was at once hospitable and 
economical, accessible and yet retired. By his knowledge and manners he was fitt^ 
to the highest company, yet although his circle was extensive, he soon learned to 
select }iis dissociates, and visiting became a pleasing relief, instead of a perpetual mter- 

The same year in which he commenced his establishment at Twickenham, be 
liecaQie known to the public, as the author of the Scribleriad, which was published in 
1751. Some of his lesser poems succeeded. The Dialogue between a Member of 
Parliament and his Servant, in 1752; The Intruder, in 1754; ag|dTheFakeer,in 17^. 
AboMt the s^me time he appeared as a writer in The World, to which he contributed 
* twenty-one papery, wlii<*'h are unquestionably among the best in that collection. Lord 
Chesterfield, who knew and respeclt<ed bii|i»'4rew the following character in one of hb 
pwn excellent papers. 

" Cantabrigius drinks nothing but water, and rides more miles in a year than the 
keenest sportsman : the former keeps his head clear, the latter his body in health : it 
is not from hunself that he runs, but to his acquaintance, a synonimous term for his 

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LIFE OF CAMBRIDGE. 229 

firiends. Intenmlly safe he seeks no sanctuary from himself, no intoxication for his 
miod His penetration makes him discover and divert himself with the follies of 
mankind, which his wit enables him to expose with the truest ridicule^ though always 
without personal ofience. Cheerful abroad because happy at home, and thus happy 
because virtuous *." 

On the commencement of the war with France in \75€, in the events of which he 
qypean to have taken a more lively interest than could have been expected from a 
man of his retired disposition, he was induced to undertake a History of the Rise and 
Progress of the British Power in India, in order to enlighten the public mind in the 
nature and importance of that acquisition. At first he intended that this work should 
be on a^rery large scale, but as recent events demanded such information as could be 
immediately procured, and promised to be useful, he produced his History of the 
War upon the Coast of Coromandel, which was published in 176U He then re- 
sumed hh original design, and obtained permission from the East India Company to 
inspect such of their papers as might be requisite. '' He bad also a promise of Mr. 
Ofine's papers^ but that gentleman happening to return from India at this juncture, 
with an intention to publish himself the history which afterwards appeared, Mr. 
Ctmbridge considered that hb own work would now be in a great measure superfluous, 
and therefore relinquished the further prosecution of his plan V What he had pub- 
lisbed, however, was considered as an important memoir of the period it embraced, 
and as a fair and correct statement of the French proceedings in India ; and it served 
to introduce him more into the study of India affairs, in which be ever afterwards 
ddigfated. It led him also to an intimate acquaintance with lord Clive, general 
Carnac, Mr. Scrafton, major Pearson, Mr. Varelst, general Caliaud, Mr. Hastings, 
and others, who had gained dbtinguished reputation by their services in the East. 

Mr. Cambridge survived the publication of this work above forty years, but appeared 
DO more before the public as an author. Many of the smaller pieces now addcfd to 
hii works, were written as amusements for his friends, and circulated only in private. 
The kmg remainder of his life passed In the enjoyment of all that elegant and polbhed 
aodety could yield. Most of the friendships of his youth were those of his advanced 
age, and they were contracted with such men as are not often found within the reach 
of a stationary individual. At Eton, he became acquainted willi Bryant, Gray, West, 
Walpole, Dr. Barnard, and Dr. Cooke; at Lincoln's Inn, he found Mr. Henry 
Bathorst, afterwards lord chancellor, the hon. Charles Yorke, Mr. Wray, and Mr. 
Edwards. To these he afterwards added lord Anson, Dr. Atwell, bishop Benson, sir 
Cbarks Williams, Mr. Henry Fox, Mr. William Whitehead, Villiers lord Clareudoo, 
lord Granville, lord Lyttelton, Mr. GrenviUe, lord Chesterfield, Mr. Pitt, lord Bath, 
lord Egremont, Soam«^ Jenyns, lord Hardwicke, admiral Boscawen, lord Barrington, 
James Harris, Andrew Stone, bbhop Egerton, lord Camelford, Wclbore Ellis, 
kvd North, Garrick, Dr. Johnson, Dr. Porteus, now bishop of London, and the 

((J Tiut <»||yT«^^r stands at the close of a paper written to expose the folly and ill effects of hard 
driakiDf : and lofd Chesterfield names my fiither, who was a water drinker, as a I'lTing example of one, 
vbo did not reqahe the cxhilirating aid of wine to enliren his wit or increase his viYacity." Life of 
Mr. Cainhridge, by his Son, prefixed to his works, p. 44. C 

< Life, nhi sopra. 



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ao UFE OF CAMBRIDGE. 

Hlustrious navigators Byron, WalUs, Carteret, Phipps, Cook, and VancouTer. lo the 
company of these, some of whom were long his neighboors al Twiekenhan, be de- 
lighted to increase his knowledge by an interchange of sentiments on topics of iiten- 
tnre and common life. His conversation was enriched by vaiions reading, and ernbd- 
Kshed by wit of the most delicate and unobtrusive kind. His temper made him univer- 
sally beloved. It was uniformly cheerfiil, mild, and benevolent. 

The conclusion of his life is thus related by his biographer. « He was considenblj 
advanced in his e%hty-third year before he was sensible, to any considerabie 
degree, of the infirmities of age : but a diflkulty of hearing, which had for some tine 
gradually increased, now rendered conversation troublesome and frequently disappolnt- 
hig to hhn. Against this evil, hn books, for which his relish was not abit^, had 
* Bitherto famished an easy and acceptable resource ; but, unfortunately, his sight also 
became so imperfect, that there were few books he could read with comfort to bim. 
self. His general health, however, remained the same, and his natural good ^irits am! 
cheerfulness of temper experienced no alteration. Having still the free use of his 
Kmbs, he continued to take his usual exercise, and to follow his customary habits of 
life, accepting of such amusement as conversation would afibrd, from those friends 
who had the kindness to iadapt their voices to his prevailing infirmity: and that be stil 
retained a lively concern in all those great and interesting events which were then 
taking place in Europe, may be seen in some of his latest productions. But as hb 
deafoess mcreased, he felt himself grow daily more unfit fmr the society of any but his 
own family, into whose care and protection he resigned himself with the most tike- 
tionate and endearing confidence, receivmg those attentions which it was the first 
pleasure of his children to pliy him, not as a debt due to a fond and indulgent parent, 
but as a free and voluntary tribute of their affection. In the contemplation of these 
tokens of esteem and love, be seemed to experience a constant and unabatiog plea- 
sure, whidi supplied, m no small degree, the want of other interesting ideas. 

*< It is wdl known, that among the many painful and humiliating cfi^Mrts that attend 
the decline of life, and follow from a partial decay of the mental powers, we hate 
often to lament the change it produces in the heart aild affections: but from eveiy 
consequence of this sort^ my father was most happily exempt. This I allow myself to 
say upon the authority of the medkal gentleman ^ of considerable eminence, by whose 
sidll and friendly attentions he was assisted through the progressive stages of his alow 
decline ; and who has repeatedly assured me, that, in the whole course of bis extea- 
sive practice, he bad never seen a similar instance of equanunity and undeviitQg 
sweetness of temper.' 

«< During this gradual increase of feebleness, and with the discouraging prospect of 
still greater sufficing, which he saw before him, hb exemplary patience and constant 
care to spare the feelings of his family were ejninently conspicuous : nor did the dii- 
Aressiug infirmities, inseparably attendant on extreme debility, ever produce a muraiar 
of ooniplaint, or even a hasty or unguarded expression, . It is somewhat nnguhu*, and 
may be regarded as a proof of an unusually strong frame, that no symptom of disease 
took phice : all the organs of life continued to execute their respective functions, until 
nature, being wholly exhausted, be expired witliout a sigh, oo the 17th of September, 
180^ leaving a widow, two sons, and a daughter.'" 

^ <* OiTid Daodast, esq. of Richaioiid.'* ,<^ f 

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LIFE OF CAMBRIDO£. Idl 

II tppom from the whole of hb fon's very interesting narrative, that few men have 
ei^^ a life of the same duration so little interrupted by vexation or calamity. His^ 
fortune, if not rdativdy great, was rendered ample by judicious management, and as 
he had been highly favoured by Providence in his person and in his family, he felt the 
knportasce of those Uessbgs with the gratitude of a Christian. Such information as 
the foUowing, so honourable to the sulyect of it, and to him who rektes it, ought not 
to be suppressed. 

•« At an early age he attentively exammed the evidences of Christianity, and was 
fully satisfied of iU truth. Hb was, in the truest sense, the religion of the heart ; and 
be always felt tfiat a constant conformity to iU precepts was the strongest and best 
proof be could give of the sincerity of his faith. Of its prescribed forms and exterior 
duties, he was no less a strict observer : whatever were his engagements, he constantly 
passed bis Sundays at home with hb family, at the bead of whom he never failed to 
attend the public service of the day, until prevented by a bodily infirmity, for some 
yean before hb death ; but he still continued hb practice of reading prayers to them 
every evening : a usage of more than sixty years : these were taken from our liturgy, 
of which he was a great admirer. 

•* When no longer able to partake of the communion at church, he continued to 
leceive it at home, on the festivab and other suitable occasions, to the latest period^ 
and hb manner of joining in thb service, fumbhed an edifying example of the happy 
infliieDce of a mind void of offence towards God and man. 

" Hb devotional exercbes were always expressed in so solemn a manner, and with 
sodi unaffected piety, as showed that hb lips spoke the language of hb heart; but 
hb impressive tone of voice, when offerinp prayer and thanksgivhig, marked that to be 
the branch of worship most suited to hb feelings: and in conformity with thb senti- 
Bent, he frequently remarked, that * in our petitions we are liable to be mbled, both 
as to their object and motive ; but in expressing our thanksgivings to the Deity, we 
can never err, the least favoured among us having received suflfident tokens of the 
bounty of Providence, to excite emotions of the sincerest gratitude.' 

«* Tl^ principle of piety led him also to bear afflictions in the most exemplary man- 
ner. Whatever triab or deprivations he experienced through life, he always met 
with fortitude, and hb demeanour under the losses which he was ordained to suffer 
in hb own femily, was such, that those only who saw him near, and knew how sacred 
he held the duty of submbsion to the Divine Will, and the sett command thb pro- 
doced, could form any idea how poignantly they were felt"— 

Of hb literary character, hb son has formed a just estimate, when he says, that be 
b to be regarded rather as an elegant than a profound scholar. Yet where he chose 
to api^y, hb knowledge was far from being superficial, and if he had not at an early 
period of life indulged the prospect of filling the station of a retired country genUe- 
man, it b probable that he might have made a dbtingubhed figure in any of the 
learned professions. It b certain that the ablest works on every subject have been 
ptMluced, with very few exceptions, by men who have been scholars by profession, to 
whom reputation was necessary as well as ornamental, and who could not expect to 
rise but m proportion to the abilities they dbcovercd. Mr. Cambridge, without being 
insensible to the value of fame, had yet none of the wont pcrib of authorship to 

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iSt LIFE OF CAMBRIDGE. 

encofuiter. As a writer he was better known to the worhl» but be eouM not haie 
been mbre highly re^>e€ted by his friends* 

About a year after his death his son, the rev« Qeorge Owen Cambridge, pabfaMl 
a splendid edition of all his works (except his History of the War) to which he pr^ 
fixed an account of hb Life and Writings. To this ^ry bterestng narrative, tbs 
present sketch is mdebted for all that is valuable in it; but from what is here iKHVOVcd 
the reader can have but a feeble conception of a composition which does so nmdi 
honour to the moral. and literary reputation of the father^ and to the filial pie^ sad 
chastened afiection of the son* 

The Scribleriad, which entitles Mr. Cambridge to a place in this collectioa, b cnm 
of those poems that, with great merits, yet mdie their way very slowly in ttie woiM. 
It was received so coolly, on the publication of the first two parts, that he foond it as* 
eessary to write a prefiice to the second and complete edition, explainii^ hbdcs^ga. 

He had some reason to apprehend that it had been mistaken, and that the poea 
was m danger of t>eing neglected. In this prefiice, he lays down certain rules fiv the 
mock heroic, by which, if his own production be tried^ it must be confes s ed he \m 
"executed all that be intended, with spirit and taste. As an imitator of ^^ tme 
heroic, be is m general fiiithfiil, and his parodies on the ancients show that be htd 
studied their writings with somewhat different from the ardour of an admiitr of 
poetry, or the acoteness of a critical linguist But it may be doubted whether the 
rules he wbhes to establbh are sufiiciently compreliensive, whether be bu not 'beea 
too faithful to hb modeb, and whether a greater and more original portion of the 
burlesque would not have conferred more popularity on hb perfonuaoce. 

Hb preference of Don Quixote, as a \tti mock heroic, is less a matter df^fispitc. 
In all ^ attributes of that species of composition, it b unquestiottably superior 1^ a^f 
'ipttempt ever made, and probably will «ver remain without a rival, for what sahjeet 
ean the wit of man devise so happily adapted to the intention of the writer ! Its grtit 
exceUence, too, appears from its continuing to please every class of readers, iMioagh 
the folly ridiculed no longer exbts, and can with some diflkdty be siqiposed to have 
ever existed. But Cervantes b in nothing so superior, as in the (delineation of bit 
hero, who throughout the whole narrative creates a powerfM mterest In hb fiitcmr, 
and who excites ridicule and compassion m such nice proportions as never to be ue* 
deservmg of sympathy, or overpowered by contempt. 

Mr. Cambridge was not so fortunate m a hero. He was content to lake up Scrih- 
lerus> where Pope and Swifl, or rather Arbutimot, left him; a motley, ideal bciag, 
without an exemplar, combining, in one indiridual, all that b found ridieuloos in for- 
gotten volumes, or among the pretenders to science and the believers of absurditki. 
Mr. Cambridge's hero, therefore, without any qualities to secure our esteem, b in 
antiquary, a pedant, an alchymbt, and what seldom b found among such charactefs, 
a poet^ In conducting him through a series of adventures, upon the plan sketched 
by the triumvirate above mentioned, it is with great difficulty that he b able to avoid 
the errour they fell into, either of mventing nonsense for the sake of laughing at it, er 
of gOicmg their ridicule at the enthusiasm at useful research, and the ardour of retl 
science, and justifiable curiosity. 
Fabe science, like every thing else that b fiibe, may be a legitimate object of ijdi- 



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UFE OP CAMBRIDGE. ft$S 

c«k» b«t to disliiigaish true from ftbe sdence is not the business of a single decision, 
but the resok of the experience of ages. By the illiterate aU remarkable improvements 
ttrf at oece condemned as impossible and therefore absurd. By the learned all remark- 
aUe inpioiKaDents are eflfiBcted by supposing them possible. There is a q)eculation in 
scxnoe as well as in commevoe, and he who has hazarded much and lost much, does 
■ot tiierdyy piove that his derigu was fundamentally wrong, 

Mr. Cambridge had too much sense and too much leamfaig to follow the stqps of ^ 
his pi c decM so rs in the bistory of Scriblerus; but yet it may be presumed that hu poem 
was uDiiicccssfiil with the public at large, either from its making qport of what had 
1 to engage the attention of philosophers, or from its treating popular super- 
aad historical credulity in a Tern of ridicule, too delicate for common readers. 

The composition of the Scribleriad is in- general so regular, spirited and poetical, 
that we cannot hot wish the author had chosen a subject of more permanent interest* 
Many striking passages may be pcnnted out to justify this wish, and perhaps there are 
few deacr yti on s so happfly imagined as the approiu:h of the army of rebusses and 
acfoatics. The versificatioo is el^ant, and the epithets chosen with singular propriety. 
The ereots, although without much connexion, idl add something to the diaracter of 
the hero ; and the conversations most gravdy ironical, while they remind us of tho 
scfioas epics, are never unnecessarily protracted. 

It is to be regretted, and perhaps it may be mentioned as another hmdranoe to the 
popularity of the Scribleriad, that the audior determined tb avoid moral reflections,—* 
icflectioos which he could have easily furnisbed. His periodical papers exhibit a 
happy onion of wit and sentiment, and few men were better acquainted with local 
maameia, and the humours and whims of interest and passion. If such reflections 
arise oaftuially from the subject, they are surely not only useful, but lead to many of 
the most striking beauties of imagery. No lealous admirer of the flights of imagina- 
tkn is unwilling to be sometimes relieved by those reflections which recal his judg* 
In the ardour of youth, poets are too apt to undervalue reason, but m ad* 
I age they more readily admit its alliance with genius. Let it also be remem- 
beicd bow much Uudibras, the first of all En^ish mock heroics, owes to the fre« 
ywcy of those reflexions and maxims, which, having become proverbial, serve to 
pcfpetaate tfie feme of their author.— >The Scribleriad, however, will ever be considered 
by impartial judges, with whom popularity is not an indispensable qualification, as a ' 
poem that does honourto the taste and imagination of Mr. Cambridge, and as deserv- 
ing a place with the most fevourite attempts of the satirical muse. 

Of the lesser pieces in this collection, the Dialogue between a Member of Parlia- 
meal and his Servant, The Fakeer, and The Intruder are to be distinguished for 
ipri^tliness of wit, and felicity of diction. Public degeneracy, impertinence, and 
saptrstitioos conning are no where more elegantiy satirized. These have been re- 
poiedly prmted in Dodsle/s and other collections. Hb other occasional pieces dis- 
cavcr the same observation of human conduct and mannen, keen and shrewd, and 
aapifaKd io easy and polished verse. 



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POEMS 



OP 



RICHARD OWEN CAMBRIDGE. 



OK TBI MARRUOI Of 

HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS 
FREDERIC PRINCE OF WALES: 

rUILUBID AMONG 

THE OXFORD CONGRATULATORY VERSES, 
1736. 

FAST by the banks of Im silrer-streun'd, 
In .tbose sweet Tales (who knows not tbose 
sweet Tales ?) 
From whence are kenn'd Oxonia's tow'rsiar-ftun'd, 
Wbilom I walk'd to catch the noon-tide gales : 
The murmVing stream, so gently gliding on. 
And awful solitude, did thought inspire ; 
Veiseless myself I oonn'd not blithsom song; 
Ko late had I, nor harp, nor tuneful Ijrre ; 
Tboaghtfiil, adown I laid me by the stream. 
That thought brought with it sleep, sleep brought 
with it a dream. 



The scene erst fair to fiiirer still did yield. 
Such scenes did ncTer waking eye behold ; 
Nor Enoa was so gay, nor Tempo's field, 
Kor yet Elysium's fkbled meads of old. 
In admiration lost, I rapturVl gaz'd, 
When, to the sound of dulcet symphonies, 
A dome, by heaT'nly workman^ip uprais*d, 
Fufth like a Tapour from the earth did rise ; 
No brick nor marble did compose the wall, 
lYtrnpaient 'twas throughout, for it was crystal all. 
Forthwith two fokling-doon disclosing wide 
Discover'd to the eye a gorgeous throne, 
A tenerable pers'nage on each side ; 
Majestic this, that soft and beauteous shone : 
Upheld by turtles sat this happy pair. 
Eternal Peace and Loves did ^port around ; 
Flutt'ring above did Hymen joyous bear 
The links in which their mutual hearts were bound, 
Betok'inng long they'd worn this easy chain, 
Betok'ning thus they'd long, O ! very long remain. 



On either side the throne a glorious band 
Of personages were sang'd : in the first place 
And nearest to the king, did Wisdom stand. 
And Honour, unacquainted to the base ; 
Next Justice, ncTer known to err though blind ; 
Vengeance and Clemency on either side ; 
And Pow'r, his eyes on Justice still inclin'd ; 
And Peace, spuming Ambition, Death, and Pride : 
Well is, I weet, the king who's thus upheld, [wield. 
Well is the land whose dceptn such a king dotii 

Nor did there on the other side, I ween. 

Forms though more soft, less heaT'nly appear; 

Conjugal Love and Concdrd still were seen. 

Becoming Meekness and Submisikm near ; 

Next Truth, a window in her naked breast. 

Modesty and Prudence ever judghig right. 

Piety, adding lustre to the rest. 

And heav'n-bom Charity appear'd in sight : 

Blest is the maid whose paths these virtues guide, 

Happy ! thrice happy he possess'd of such a bride I 

While on this venerable pair I gaz'd 
Enter'd a band of youth, joyous and gay. 
One 'bove the rest most worthy to be prais'd^ 
Who follow'd still where virtue led the way; 
Oit-times he tow'rd the waters cast his eye. 
Which big with hope and expectation seem'd, 
Nor long ere he a vessel did descry, [stenm'da 
Which fraught with all his wishes tow'rd him 
An heav'nly maiden on the deck was plac'd. 
With ev'ry virtue blest, with ev'ry beauty grac'd. 

White were her robes, which so divinely shm'd 
As snow and gold together had been wove. 
Expressive emblem of the purest mind. 
Expressive emblem of the chastest love ; 
Alternate on the damsel and the youth 
A band of loves pour'd most propitious darts. 
Which Upt with pleasure, constancy, and truth. 
Found free admission to their inmost hearts ; 
Swift flew the youth, with eager haste convey 'd. 
To his own happy shore, the much-lov'd, loving 
maid. 



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236 



CAMBRIDGE'S POEMS. 



And tx>w admnce in hospitable guise 

The royal pa'tr ; with welcome salutation 

They greet the maid ; joy tparkles in her eyes. 

Promise of future bluings on the nation : 

Nor now did Hymen unemploy'd appear, 

Their hearts in chains of adamant he bound. 

Laud shouts of mirth and joy invade the ear. 

Each echo pleased repeats the blithsom sonnd; 

I, sleeping as I lay, in rapture cr3r'd 

'* Long live the happy prince I long IHre the bean- 

teous bride!" 
In flowing robes and squared caps advance, 
Pallas their guide, her erer-favour'd band ; 
Ab they approach they join in mystic dance. 
Large scrolls of paper waving in their hand ; 
Nearer they come, I heard them sweetly sing. 
But louder now approach the peals of joy. 
The gladsom soan& which from eaeb (quarter ring, 
Diq>el my slumbers, and my trance destroy, 
Wakmg, I heard the shouts on ev*ry side 
ProoUim Augusta feir the happy Frederic's bride! 



MISCELLANEOUS VERSES* 

wirmv AT 

WHITMINSTER, 

ftOM 1742 TO 1750. 
LBARNINQ: 

A niALOGVI BBTWBBN 

DICK AND NED, 

(THt AOTBOft, AKD Dft. tDWAKD BAaSIAaO, ArTlft- 

WAsns raovosT or iToif.) • 

Ths day was sullen, bleak, and wet, 

W^ Dick and Ned together met 

To waste it in a friendly chat, 

And much they talkM of this and that; 

7111 many a question wisely stated. 

And many a knotty point debated. 

From topic still to topic taming. 

They fall at length on books and teaming :, 

Then each with eagerness displays 

His eloqoe&oe, to give them praise. 

Far hi tiieir eulogy they laach. 

And scan them o'er in ev'rjr branch ; 

Thus, th' eicellencies making known 

Of learning, slyly show their own. 

Here Dick (who often takes a pride 

lb argue on the weaker side) 

Cries, ** Softly, Ned, this talk of learning 

May hold with men in books discerning | 

Who boast of what they call a taste. 

But ibr all else we run too fast ; 

For lay but prqudioe aside, 

And let the cause be fiiirly try'd, 

Whsl is the worth of any thing, 

But for the happiness 'twill bring ? 

And diat, none ever would dispute. 

Is only found in the pursuit; 

For if you once run down your game. 

You frustrate and destroy your aim : 



He, without doubt, pray mark me, Ned, 

Has most to read, who least has read ; 

And him we needs must happiest find. 

Whose greatest pleasure is behind." — 

Ned, who was now twixt sleep and wake, 

Stirred by this argument to spieak, 

Fua apUy cry'd, " With half an eye 

Your fiir-fetcht sophistry I spy ; 

Which, ne^er so subtlely di^mted, 

By two plain words shall be confuted : 

To give your reasoning due digestion, 

I first affirm you beg the question. 

Leamhig*s a game, which, who attains, 

A great and worthy pleasure gains ; 

Not light and transient like the chase. 

But stable with unftding grace. 

Therer are, indeed, who are so idle. 

They leave all emprise hi the middle ; 

Nor for reflection read or comment. 

But just to kill the present moment : 

These hunt romances, tales, and bisfries, 

At men pursue a common mistress. 

Who when once caught but moves their loathii^ 

And well if she's not worse than nothing; 

But those of steady, serious life. 

Know there 's no pleasure like a wife, ^ ' 

And snch the wise true leammg find 

A lasting hdp>mate to their mind." — 

'* Qood sir," quoth Dick, and made a kg, 

" I say ^ you the question h^. 

Your simities of wife and mistress 

Will serve your arj^ment to di«U«ss. 

If kn ow te dge never was attam*di 

Which sages always have maintain'd. 

Then knowledge cannot be a wife : 

And you yourself conolude tbe str^ 

You no less fellacy advance 

'Gainst tales, and febles, and romance ; 

For I shall prove t'ye in the sequel, 

ThUt reading of all kinds is equal ; 

And none can serve a better end. 

Than cheerfully our time to qtend. 

Nor is t of moment, gay, or serious. 

But, as tbe readers minds are various. 

Each please hiottelC Yon contradict 

Philosophers of every sect. 

Unless with them you will main! 

All human learning to be vara. 

This, Socrates affinnM of old. 

And this our wisest modems hold. 

Therefore, if you have prov'd romances. 

And snch like; vain and idle fsncies. 

They've said the same of all the knowledge 

1th' sage and philosophic college."— 

Ned was by this a little nettled : 

Quoth he," This thing shall soon be settled { 

With your owo arguments disputed. 

And you with your own weapons nnited. 

You hold the pleasure to consist 

In the pursuit ; this must exist 

For ever, you have eke maintain'd, 

Asicrting knowledge caut be gain'dj 

By this you fairly overthrow 

Your first position j for, if so. 

How can it ever be agreed 

Who least has read ha» most to read ? 

If ten miles upwards you could ran. 

Would you be nearer to the Sun } 



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LEARNING: A DIALOGUE. 



237 



Or daSly horn the bm sboiild drink. 

Say would too ever find it thrhik ? 

Men mort delighted are, the fact it. 

At they more skilful grow by practice ; 

This tnie in all «e bare ooocem in, 

Hoeh more it found to bold in learning. 

Who various sciences has read, 

His made a store-bouse of his head ; 

And with biai ever bears within 

A Urge and plenteous magasine. 

Whence he's secuie to draw at leisure 

All lorts of precious boarded treasure r 

Rich in ideas, ne'er shall he 

A proy become to poverty ; 

Aul roaming free, his active mind 

Gio oe*er be fetter'd or confined ; 

Nor of doll solitude complain, 

H» thoughts, a cheerful social tnun : 

Tor books of the superior kind 

With just ideas fill the mind. 

Nourish itt growing youth, coofirm 

Its manhood, prop itt age infirm : 

Learoingt our ev'ry step attends, 

lit best of pilots and of friends ; 

AsMtts our various iUs to bear, 

lo fortunes adverse waves to steer ; 

How best in caln^er hours to tail, 

And bow improve the proap'rous gale."— 

** Alas !** quoth Dick; ** mere pufiT and firoth this is. 

Which you advance for your hypothesis : 

At best a well-laid theory ; 

No substance or reality ; 

Nor found with practice to agree. 

Your scheme would be more true and ample, 

If well supported by example. 

But these all make against your system, 

And therefore wisely you supprest 'em ; 

Not all your books can. raise the mind 

Above the weakness of mankind. 

Zeoo, of stow reading vain, ^ 

Affirm'd there was no harm in pain. 

Pyrrho wouki vaunt (but then heM lie) 

Indifference or to Ihre or die. 

Ctroeades oft spent his breath 

Tinspire the bold contempt of death ; 

And once his wisdom did u^kct 

So for to ape the stoic sect. 

He thought he felt an inclination 

To die, because it was the fashion. 

Hearing Antipater (a wise one !) 

Had kiU'd himself by drinking poison. 

He cries, resulv'd to do the same, 

' Give me*^— but what, forbears to name ; 

Then, baulkbg his expecting friends. 

In mere mullM wine this poisoo ends. 

Not all hb learning and wise reading. 

Could Zeno's pupil keep from heeding 

The rig'rous tvringes of the stone. 

Or but suppress one single groan ; 

ForcM to own pain at length an evil, 

And gire Iks doctrine to the devil. 

Thus these philosopben and leaden 

Of various sects (profoundest readers) 

From all their books could ne'er attain. 

Death to contemn, or smile at pain ; 

And much less resqp'd they joy or pleasure. 

Their volumes yielding no such treasure."— 

Ned, who now heartily iras vest. 

Began to stickle for his text^ 



" Fairly," quoth he," examples cite. 

We soon shall set this matter right; 

But those you bring, tho' slyly pickt out. 

And with all art and cunning trickt out, 

Tis plain to see you £slsely vent 'em. 

And speciously mispresent 'em* 

Tho' Dionysius did wince, 

His master ne'er was known to flinch ; 

His other pupil, Posidonius, 

Alone would prove your scheme errooeooi. 

When Pompey, who on purpose came 

So far to hear this sage declaim. 

Finding him on his sick bed lakl. 

And with severest pains assay'd. 

Would fain have gone without his errant ; 

The steady stoic would not hear on't ; 

Began, and bravely held it out. 

Amidst the torments of the gout ; 

Nor could avail th' acutest pang. 

To stop or discompoae th' harangue. 

Couki Epictetus, with such bravery. 

Or JEaopt bear their painful slavery ; 

Unless by learning's band supported. 

And that relief which books afibrded ; 

Whilst all their votaries hare taught 

That freedom dwells but in the thought. 

Hence did Pbiloxenus desire 

From the rich banquet to retire ; 

Chose rather back to gaol be hurried, 

Than there with royal dulness worried ; 

His thoughts expatiating free 

And undisturb'd with poetry. 

Made bread and water more delieiont 

Than choicest feasts of Dionysius ; 

Proving no pain or thraldom wona it 

Than slavishly to hear bad verses."— 

Quoth Dick, " *T\m difficult to kumr 

The truth of facts so long ago. 

Writers enhance their hero's glory,* 

The better to set off their story ; 

And throw a varnish and a gloss over 

Th' acts of their fovourite phikwopher. 

You, of Philoxenus, advance 

Mere folly, pride, and arrogance ; 

His reading made him no great winner. 

That lost M> foolishly his dinner. 

Which is the wiser part d'ye think, 

Tapprove, and smile, and eat, and drink; 

Or sourly criticisms mutter. 

And quarrel with your bread and hotter } 

But if we find from books arise 

This squeamish taste, more nice than wise, 

'TIS happier sure, and wiser yet. 

Ne'er to have learnt the alphabet : 

Yet tho' I scruple not to grant 

'Twas learning made him arrogant, 

I still must strenuously maintain 

Indifference to death or pani 

Proceeds from natural dispositMo, 

More than from bookish acquisition. 

Examples of yout suffering sages 

We find not five in fifteen ages. 

Such volunteers in pain abound. 

In parts where books were never found. 

To prove my words, if »tis your hap 

T have pictures in't, consult your map ; 

There, Ned, a Brahmin vmy you sise 

lyd by the heels to post or tree ; 



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t3S 



CAlfBKH)G£'S POEMS. 



From wbteoe he retdiet donrawaid to make 

A fire to roast his breast and stomach $ 

And this -he ne'er abates or puts oat, 

Tbo* it shoald bufii his very guts out ! 

Yet this from lieaming can't proceed. 

For none of these can write or read. 

Nor is the next a man of letters. 

Who's galPd by those enormous fetten; 

Nor yet is he a better scholar. 

Who groans beneath that iron collar. 

Dan Prior*s Muse a case records. 

And sweetly too, so take his words : 

At Tonquin, if a pripoe should dye, 

(As Jesuits write, who never lye,) 

The wife, and counsellor, and priest. 

Who serv'd him most and lov'd him best. 

Prepare and light his funeral fire. 

And cheerful on the pile expire. 

Ill Europe 'twould be hard to find. 

In each degree, one half so kind. 

But why on European ground 

Is no such instance to be fimnd ? 

Say, does our learning or our reading 

Fall so Off short of Tonqum breeding ? 

But, as I said before, a case. 

So fer remov'd by time and place. 

Is seldom foithfiilly related. 

Or, in ^nost points, exaggemted. 

Let us by modem £scts be try'd. 

And not our ears, but eyes decide. 

Consider but your nearest neig^ibour, 

Mark well his ceaseless toil and labour ; 

Or fellow studenta at the college. 

Who drudge both night and day lor knowledge ; 

Are they fbr teo years poring better 

Than if they'd never known a letter ? 

This thumbs philosopbers that teach 

To be content is to be rich ; 

And finds, he thinks, with greatest rapture. 

These riches grow with evSry diapter j 

But sound his heart, you'll find it heaving 

To college rents and future living* 

This reads the stoics, and from them 

Learns all misfortunes to oootemn ; 

But a bare nose, or finger's bleeding. 

Shall countervail his ten years reading; 

Bo not most men more selfish grow. 

And more reserv'd, the mora they know ? 

And when they come to study less. 

To p romote others happiness, 

They must, 'tis by exfoneoce shown. 

Of conseQoence impair their own. 

When Umbrio, fixt upon the skies 

In absence, turns hb musinfteyes, 

And never condescends t' a^id. 

But in a leam'd dispute, a word ^ 

Can I persuade myself, that he 

Is happier than his company ? 

Were it not better for a while 

To lay his wisdom by, and smile, 

And join with them to laugh and chat, 

Altho' he cannot tell at what?. 

Yet he'll indulge these sullen fits, , 

And keep ^m mirth for brother wits: 

Then let us kUlom him to these. 

And see if. he he move at ease. 

No; soon again hit pleasure. foi^ ■ 

He frowns, he yawns, he bhcs his nails; 



And shows by disco nt en t ed looks. 

He wants to leave 'em for bis books. 

Pursue him to his country seat ; 

Is there his happiness compliete ? 

With endless volumes fill'd, the room 

Must needs dispel that sullen gloom : 

In vain. Ere be an hour has sat. 

Disliking this, and tir'd with that. 

Some modern book augments his spleen. 

Which th' ancienU can't take off again. 

Impatient from himself to fly, 

Shall he the field amunements try ? 

No ; those a philosophic mind 

Too barren pleasures needs must find. 

Then shall he try his hours to spend 

In chat with neighbouring country friend } 

Lo ! there his joys as vainly plac'd ; 

One knowledge wants, and one a taste. 

This too reserv'd, that too affected, 

Envy'd by this, by that sttspected : 

Poor Umbrio meets, at ev'ry turning,. 

Some sad revene intail'd on learning; 

And, tir'd o* tb* country, back anuin 

Drives to be tir'd of town again. 

Observe agam, th' unlettered brow 

No frowns contract, no wrinkles pfow ; 

See Bubo's front serenely sleek ; 

Chagrin ne'er wastes Aphronius' cheek; 

Simplicius with eternal smile ; 

And Dullman ever found tranquil ; 

Prig with self-approbation blest ; 

While nought disturbs A8ello*B rest."— 

Qnoth Ned, *< I ca» no longer bear 

Such overt fiilsities to hear ; 

Of arguments there is no end. 

When with a sophist you contend ; 

Thy proofs all fislselyare asserted. 

Or else most wilfully perverted : 

In this, as well as other countries. 

Men drown and hang themselves upon tre^ ; 

Or, too displeas'd with this to bear it. 

Leap into t* other world from garreL 

Yet none in grave discourse, e'er thought 

Such fit examples to be brought; 

'Cause these from nuulness must proceed. 

And those from poverty and need. 

The sages I produced, ne'er bought 

Their md or pain : their volumes taught 

Neither to hasten death nor shun it. 

But with indifference k)ok upon it; 

Nor ills to court nor yet to fear, 

Whate'er frite gave resign'd to bear : 

From whence I proved beyond dispute. 

That learning bears the choicest fruit; 

And plenteous harvesU ever jrieUs 

To those who duly till her fields. 

But you deny the truth, averring 

Her soil not only cold but barren ; 

And the spontaoeous idle weed 

The cultivated crop t' exceed. 

Now turn we to your happy clan. 

And their delights and pleasures scan ; 

See them returning from the field. 

Their joys are o'er ; the fox is kill'd ; 

How shall they pass the tedious night. 

Till sport return with morning Kgbt? 

Fiom whence procure them recreation. 

Nor sought from books orcooversatian ? 



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TOBACCO: A TALE! 



259 



Th« bottle, 1o! teir tole f«wit« 
OppMNve tboQgh tbey drown ID port ; 
Or, vitk dev dke or cuds beguile. 
And thieid tbem from themtehret awbile. 
Our gsllAots DO* to ^oiro repair ; 
Wbtt eadlewpleuiiret wait 'em there ; 
One belf the <tay in sleep is pest. 
They itndy bofir the rest to waste ; 
Till dnm or pleyhoose shall inrite 
Tocroim with happiness the nigfaL 
The dress, the valet, and the glass, 
Hdp two long iiksome boors to pass ; 
The dinner serres them to oomplain 
Of tarems, waiters, cooks, champaign. 
With joy they hear the house is fbll : 
The play begins ; tis graTO, tis dull. 
Aid two more hours their cruel fiste 
Oidsim their happiness must wait 
Their patience now the drum rewards 
With whispers, wax-lights, bows, and cards. 
Nov, while at whist they take their seat, 
Goask them, are their joys complete ! 
Or vait they lor some fan>urite vice ; 
Their ^, their bottle, or their dice? 
Ssy, would you for a pattern chuse 
Doliinan, whose passion is the news ? 
Ne'er could the freedom of his mind 
h prisoo'd volumea be oon6n*d ; 
b knser sheets is nil his lore, 
FMe tt the sybil's leaves of yore. 
He ne'er could on one science fix. 
So fell perforce on politics ; 
k these he can descant as wdl 
hi soy modem Machiavel : 
Here little p r o g r eea will enable 
T sttack the deepest at the table. 
Greet is, I grant you, his delight, 
Wbea reading a retreat or fight. 
Or nlly or surprise, by the F^rench meant 
To itonn the enemies entrenchment : 
Oritips engagmg with the Spaniard; 
Or loss of mast by storm, or mainyard; 
Or caixo sunk, or crew all drownded i ; 
Or iparioos babe in Wappmg found dead. 
Or how the stubborn Dutch go on slow ; 
Or robb'ry on Blackheath or Hounslow. 
lot should they e'er restram the press. 
How great were Dullman's dire distress; 
And ihould all Europe be at peace. 
His plenmre totally must cease. 
Let us from these now torn our eyes 
Upon the man that's leam'd and wise : 
You see hhn, from his early youth, 
Tnight the pursuits of beav'niy truth : 
in er'iy season, eY»ry place. 
He foHows still the pleasing chase ; 
Tbs nearer to the glorious prize. 
It tbines the brighter in his eyes: 
And not alone in books is found. 
Bat et'iy object all around. 
He not the least of these disdains. 
Or finds ungratefdl to his pains. 
But like the bee, fipom er^ ikmer 
And er'ry weed, with artfm power 
GoUeots sJona the choicest juice. 
And lays in stoce for future use. 
Tims all thngs to improvement turning. 
Still grows his pleasure with his karaing.*' 

1 So DoUman spdls It 



SOCIETr; 



ADDRESSED TO HEKRY BERKLEY, ESQ. 

Tbis poem was intended to delineate the character 
of Mr. Berkley, but being unfinished at the time 
of his death, the author never could prevail upon 
himself to complete it 

Socirrr ! Our being's noblest end ! 
To tbee, with claims unequal all pretend : 
From angels or the heav'n-instructed man. 
To the wild Tartar's unconnected clan i 
From the vast elephant, or savage bear. 
To abject reptiles, and those insects spare 
That wing invisibly the crowded air. 

Select are thy delights serene thy joys ; 
How falsely sought in numbers and in noise I 
Too sober for th' ambitious or the vain ; 
Too delicate for folly's tasteless train. 
These, while they seek thee in the tents of shame^ 
Bring foul dishonour on thy sacred name , 
Who think to fiod thee in the harlot's bow'r. 
Or loud with wassel in the midnight hour. 
Mi^udge not then the philosophic mind. 
Deaf to thy call, to thy endearments blind : 
Smce not thyself the wise, retir'd, disclaim. 
But that vain phantom which usurps thy name. 

Is there a man whom conscious worth inspires ; 
Whom wisdom touches with her faintest'^fires; 
Whose nicer sense could brook the drunkard's cries. 
The gamester glorious in his shameful prize ; 
The dull recital of the sportsman hear. 
Or bigot roar of noby faction bear ? 

O! should my soul her choicest wbh declare. 
And form to bounteous Heav'n her ardent prayerg 
Nor numero