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

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E UrBRIS OLtM 

REGINALD I J. E, TIDDY 

ART. MAG. COLL, 88- TmH. 80CII 

QVr OMNIVM PACIFERARVM 

ARTIVM ET LtTTERARVM STVOrOSlSSIMVS 

PACEM E MtLITlA 

TERRESTREM QVAESIVIT CAELESTEM INVENIT 

A,D, Ul 10, 8EXT, AlVNO DOM. MDCCCCXVr 




r * 



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Bii.3 



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THE 

WORKS 



or TBS 



ENGLISH POETS, 

FROM CHAUCER TO COWPERf 



IMGLODIHO TBI 



SERIES EDrrED, 



WITB 

PREFACES, BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL. 

BY DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON: 

AND 

THE MOST APPROVED TRANSLATIONS. 



TRB 

ADDITIONAL LIVES 

BY ALEXANDER CHALMERS, F.S.A. 



IN TWENTY-ONE VOLUMES. 
VOL- XVIII. 



COTTON, 

hOOAS, 

T. WABTON, 

J. WART019» 

BLACKLOCK9 



CAMBRIDGBy 
MASON, 
JON BS» 
BEATTIE, 
COWPEB. 



LONDON: 
norrcD pob j. jomaovi J. nichoij and son ; b. Baldwin ; r. and c. rivington: w. otbidge and 0ON ; 

mn Uat SOniEBT: B. FAI7U>EB and son; O. KICOL and SON; T. PAYNE} O. BOBiNSONl WIUUE AND 
lUHMOH : C. DATfEB t T. BOBBTON : SCATCHEKD AND LfflTERMAN ; J. WALKBB ; TEKNOB, HOOD, AND 8RABPB; 
1. LBAs 3. WOHH ; LACKINGTON, ALUN, AND CO. ; J. arrOCKDALE; CIITHELL AND BCABTTN s CLABKB AND SON») 
1. VBTTB AWD CO. ; LONGHAN, BUBST, BBE8» AND OBUE ; CADELL AND DAVIB8 1 J. BABRBB ; iOHN BICHARDAON i 
JLM.BICIIAUMCNf} J. CABPEirTEBs B. CB08BY i E. JE»FEBT{ i. BfUBBAY; W. MIIXBB; J. AND A ABCH; BUCK, 
MBBT. AND KINGBBDBY { J. BOOBEBi 8. BAGBTEB; J. HABDINOf J. MACKINLAY; J. HATCHABDt B. H. EVANS. 
■ATmWS AND UOGa I J. MAWMAN i J. BOOTH | J. ASPEBNB { P. AND W. WYNNB | AND W. OBAOB. DEIORTOB 
ABD t09l AT CAMBBID6E. AND WIUON AND SON AT YORK. 

18)0. 



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C WHITTIJIGHAM, Printer, 
GwwtU Smttf UndMr. 



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CONTENTS. 



VOL. XVIIt 



POEMS OF COTTON. 



HEAaUMr*tIile,byMr.Chalmen 3 

RABltt. 

IIV Bee, the Ant, and the Sparrow 9 

UTteSeboUrandtbeCkt 10 

U ISeptniK and the Marinen 11 

IV. The Beta and the Viper ib. 

VIWSaailandtheQardenef 12 

n Tie Fanner and the Horse 18 

TAUB. 

AtbabaodthePiff 15 

:b«kaad the Rake. ADatchtale ib; 

on» Of BoaAcv. 

T^MeaolOdeorttaeaeooDdBook. lucribed 

loT.V.Bni. ^^ 

TWtaaikOdeoftbeMooDdllook Il 

XrfTAIVS. 

Oifttot darning, M. B ib. 

% CoIomI Gardiner, who was slain in the 

httlFacPKitDoPnn8,l743 ib. 

O^Xr.SUer,orStiidham ib. 

^ a IMj who had laboored under a Cancer, ib. 

TiouOOT nicia. 
bbieentiaB of Happiness. After the orien- 

tiUfMBeroT Speech ib. 

r«e ^TiZZ.. 18 

^UiPM. Inacribed to Miss P < ib. 

T^Riaide 19 

^MMCWUreBliitenhigtoaLark ib. 

r<^> did of five Yean old 20 

(^InlCoUMOB^ Garden ib. 

ToUonwr , ib. 

^ ^kBtnoa to Horace. Ode %fu Book it. lU" 

>aMtoH.W. Eaq ib. 

^ Ifitiph apoB Mr. Tbotnas Strong, who 

W oa the Mh of December, 1T36 21 

S?Mpk apoB ICas Gee, who died October, 25, 

•'36,«tn.a8 , , 22 



F<rar Rebnses .22 

Some ha9fy lines on Sleep .' *ib. 

A Rebus ib. 

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

A Sunday Hymn» in Imitation of Dr. Watts .. 25 

An Ode on the Messiah ib. 

An Ode on the new Year ih. 

Epitaph on John Duke of Bridgwater, who 

died in the twenty-first Vear of his Age, 

1747-8 ib'. 

A Fable 24 

Addressed to a young Lady, whose fhTonrite 

Bird was almost killed by a Fall from her 

Finger .,* 2* 

Riddle on a knitting Needle ib. 

Riddle on a Needle ^. ib. 

Another on Cotton 26 

Another on a Needle-book ib. 

Psalm tiii ib; 

T'salm xlii iU. 

ThcNight-Piece 2f 

To the rev. James Hervey, on his Meditations, 

by a Physician ily* 

lines under a Snn-Dial in the Church-Yard 

atThomby 28 

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

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

TlllOKS M VtRSI FOR TBB BNTeBTAINItEMT AHD IM- 

tnucTioN or tounoeii mimm. 

Epistle to the Reader ib- 

Vision 1. Slander 29 

II. Pleasure 31 

ni. Health 32 

IV. Content 34 

V. Happiness * 35 

VI. Friendship' u..v. 3'/ 

VII. Marriage ,....i 39 

VIII. Life 41 

Vision the last. Death i... 43 



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C6RtElSTS. 



POEMS OF LOGAN. 



Pane 

The Author*! Life, by Mr. Chalmers 49 

Ode to the Cuckoo '..w. 33 

Song.— The Braes of Yarrow Hk 

Ode on the Dleath of a youog Lady 54 

OdetoWomeu >b. 

Owian*t Hymn to the SuD 55 

Ode written in Spring ; ib. 

Song. — ^The day is departed, and round* from 

the cloud ,... 56 

Ode to Sleep i ib. 

Ode to a 3rQung Lady • ib. 

Ode to a Man of Letters 57 

The Lovers 1 58 

ATale 59 

Monimia: an Ode 63 

Ode written in a Visit to the Country in Au-» 

* tnnm t 63 

BTMIfS. 

L The Pny«r of Jacob ; 64 

IL The CoDpiplaii^t of Nature ..^ ib. 



in. Trust in Protidence 65 

IV. Heavenly Wisdom -. ib. 

V. Behold ! the mountain of the Lprd^ ^.. ib. 

VL Behold 1 th' Aihbassador divine.. ....... \ ib. 

VH. Messiah at thy glad approach .....«,... 66 

VIU. When Jesus by the Virgin brought ... ib. 

IX, Where high the heavenly temple stands, ib. 

POSMS ATTRlBUTtD TO lOOJUf. . 

IXimon, Menalcas, and Meliboeus : an Eck^ue. 6T 

Pastoral Song. In May when tihegqwana ap- 
pear on the green /.^ 6ft 

Ode : to a Fountain .r.4f«...««.ik.v.jk»i..i.. 'lb. 

Danish Ode ib. 

Anacreontic to a Wasp ....« 69 

The Episode of Levina, from Brace's Poem of 

Lochleven ,..*;..:..". *7Q 

Ode: to PaoK; ' ; ..,^. ...... 72 



POEMS OF T. WARTOK. 



The AfrtfaoHi lifer/by Mr^ Chulmers - ..»..;... 75 

iMWgftUHBOVS riBCBS. 

The Triumph of Ilii, occasioned by Isis. an 
Elegy. (Written in 1*749, Che A'lUhor's Slst 
Year....* 89 

Elegy on the De«th of the^late Fr^derie Prince 
of Wales. (WritteA ra lf51.) 91 

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

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

On the Birth of the Prince of Wales. (Written 
after the Installation at WinfUoow ii| fha, . 
same Year. 176^) C^".-^...- ^5 

Verses on Sir Joshua Reynolds's painted Win- 
dow, at New CoJ^ege^ Oxford^, (Writt^ in . ., 
l7nL]^ .'• '.. .' '. ^f.«,. ...... 94 

MbDody, written near Stratford hp6il A^ron. ^ 
(PobKshed in t;he Edition of f77lCj '\ ^p 

llie Pleasures of Mdanch6ty. '(Written in 
1745, the Author's seventeenth Y*^^ pub- '' 
fished anonymoQsly in 1747. )* . . . .V. . .'. . . 1 Jj. 

Imcriptiooin a Hennitage. At- An^te^^l^' 
in Warwickshire .'..,...* 97 

Inscribed <m a beaiitifhi «rotto nesr the Water! 9b 

UitferiptioB over a calm and cMi* S)[>riog in' '' 
Bleoliaim Oarden^ ....* .'..il'...;,...V.':...' 'ib.' 

E^taphonMr.lMd... ...,..'..1.:.. ; IS. 

* .9«Aii»Minpiwiav(|P muwbami. -n' 

JolJ, Chi««^r sftjiit. ' lfPu%fcsh«a fh 1150, in ' • 
theSiudeiit.)'..i.v';.....::: :.........:..?.. ib. 



A Pastoral in the Manner of Spenser. From 
Theocritus, IdylLxa. 4.A..4- : 

From Horace, Book iii. Od. xiii 

Horace, Book ii?. 0». ^itf. After 'tl|d >ra A- 
nerOTMlit^ ..•....<:.'...?.'.•. :.':..; ..J 



91> 
,ib. 

lb. 



L To Sleep. ;..'...; ..,.;..:..;....;.'.'..'..: 

II. The Hamlet Written in Wbichwood 

Forest <..; 

TU Written at Vale-Royal Abbey in Ches- 

hire 

IV. Solitude at an Inn . 



^^toitt^^Mr. Upton on his Edition of 

VL The Suicide 

VIL Sent to a Friend oj^ bill lyji|?^,,j/a;^ 
^VDurlte Tillage In nam^bire ...... 

Via. Morning. Tke^ AiHtair^ oontined to 

IX TheCo||ipJajint.orCb«rpfll .-r .^.-f-i 

,. X. The First of April ^^^, 

XT.. On, the A»tj»chq(r§yniip^.,^;,„^.: 

,jarf. The Grave of King Art^jf ,>*,„vt-v 

XV. Onliis Majesty's BirJJArf^*J|liiW/iUH, 

XVI. Por (fie' new Yesir, 1^?6 '.„.•,.->. 

XVII. For.b^ Majesty's. Birth-I^,,,|uiv 

4'th, 1785 ...,,.„:....,, -V,. 

XVIII. For the u*w Year, 1787 J. :. ...,.';.?.. 

XIX. On his Majesty's Bicth-l>i»y, June 

4tb, 1787 .....:.:,,.;.?.., ' 

XX. For the new Year, 1788 .^,\:.. 



loo 

ib. 

ib. 
101 

ib. 

10^ 

103 
.ib. 

io5 

xn 

us 
lb. 

ib. 



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OONTENTS. 



Page 
XXL Od his Majesty's Birth>Day, June 

4tk, 1788 ^. 116 

XXIL For hii Majesty's Birtli-Dsy, Jane . 

401,1789 117 

XXm. For his Majesty^ Birth -Day, Jone 

44h, 1790 ib. 



L Vrittea^t Winslade in Hainpshir«...f .. « ^8 

IL Ok Bathing ....^ .. ib. 

a WfitteD in a blank Leaf of DagdaJe's 

MoBSsticoD ..•••».•..>••«•• ib> 

IV. WritteB at StonebeDge 119 

T. Writtai after aeeiag Wilton Hoose ib. 

n ToMr.Gfay...^ ib. 

VIL WhSe sonmer suns o'er the gay pros- 

pcct |Ha/ <d •••■•••••4«*. ••#••••■«••«••>*. ID* 
Vni 6b Ki^f Aranr'k touKi Tible, at Win- 

dMler ^...v..». ib. 

IX-TotheBifarLodoii ib. 

UnUCAL AND BDliOB^IIt fOCBM, 

Smsrliet, a Satire 120 

'io^oe oo the old Winchester Playhouse 

•»o the Batcher's Shambles 121 

AP^i^gjricooQzibrd Ale 122 

TWPta^ofDiscoDtent 123 

T^Fhselon, and the Ooe-Horse Chair 124 

Ob to s Orizzle Wig by a Gentleman who 

W jaA left off hb Bob 125 

The C^rtle Baiber^a Soliloquy. WriUefk f n i 

ft*hteWar ._... .7.... ib.' 

IWQiM Newsman's Versa.;. Iis6 

fosMATa nsxAifntA.' 

faOnharaae, fivope Wi^tODiam ...K^.'^ 187 

^Ria ColL- SSwTHn. Oioii^nataiinitum, . 

n.PrioefpisWa]l'im,(n51.) .,...^..w... 129 



P*r 



BPIOaAMIIATa. 



In Horto Script. 130 

Epitaphinm.. > ib. 

Apud Hortum Jucundissimum WintonisB ...... 131 

Qui fit, Maecenas, &c ib. 

GfSBca atqueAnglica qnaedam Latine Red- 

diU il>. 

Homeri Hymnas ad Pana ••... ib> 

Ex Poemate de Voluptatibus Faeultatibus 

Imjginatricis -^ ib« 

Ex Poemate de Ratione Salutis consenrandss • ISI 
Pindari Pythionic. I. Hieroni JEtnseo Syraco- 

sio Curru Vict. ib. 

Ex Ettripidis Andromacha ib* 

Meleagri Epitaphium in Uxorem 133 

Antipatri Tbessalonic In Temperantiam ... lb. 

GarphilidSD lb. 

Callimacbi in Crethida «•••• ib* 

Incerti in Chio |bk 

Leonids -••• t^ 

In Tomulum Archilochi ...« ibk 

Incerti in Cicadam Jb. 

Antipatri Thessalonicensis 134 

Callimacbi in Heraclitum ib. 

ADDmom TO wabton's pobms. 

A Song. Imitated from the Midsummer 
Nighfk Dream of Shakspeare, Act ii. Scene 

. .V. .„.., • ib. 

Verses on Miss Cotes ib. 

Verses on Miss Wilmot ib. 

Tbe Ma«len^,bl^<ly Garland, or High Street 

nVagedyT. 13^ 

Five Pastoral Eclogues, the Scenes of which 
arti sQppoaed to .JJ9 among tba SiMphevd^ 
oppressed by the War in Germany. 

Eclogue L Lycas and Alptaott 136 

II. Acis and Alcyon .t^...«* 13^ 

UJ. Whan sable midnigl^on tb^ 

fields and woods 138 

IV. MycooawlPhilantbes .*•... 139 

V. Oorin and Caiistan .^«^ 140 



.t .(i 



POEMS OF J. WARTON. 



''inQOsimMMnNnf irxuBB. 

'i^WtaBVifi Reverendi Joiq>|ii'Warton» 
&T.P.aic. TUtei^tilnW^; Wool's Ale- 
■«» , ^:... 155 

■^vrittMfMtf ipoken by Mr. t^pscomb> 
^dkvcf New Cottne, then a Praepostor of 
^■chstwSctodl 156 

'' "— w wi Joeefih Wartoo. Prom Mant*s 
VeiicttolBttaiiory' ib. 

'VV^AMse. WritiepwbsnatWincbes- 

-*'MtoQl ,...;, ,..,..,. 159 

"*«attt: or the Xxyver of j^ature. 

^WBtt a 1,1740 ...,.,. , ... ....... ib. 

-^^ •• Saline .»......#....«. ...rkt*..* «•««* X61 

«fe»r«, .., ,„^... „ ib. 



Ode to Health. ' Written on & Recoveiy ffcu^ 

the Small-Pox ..^ , ^ ,.*.-....*. t6A 

Ode to Superstition. M. /^v••,rf•1••^^i^^'55 

Ode to a Gentleman on bis TjakveU .«^^^...4.* ih^ 

Ode to Liberty ...... .,..,.........»,^-..i;;..'^jf ,^, 166 

Ode against Despair ».*....... ,^.^.,rt^, .^,ji^ * . . ib. 

Ode on Shooting ..;. 167 

To a Fountain. Imitated Iram Horace, Ode 

xiii. Book iii. ••••« v.v4*<**f •••^•7 ib* 

Ode to Evening ...,.*.,..^.*.*w ib. 

Ode to Content «• vi*tM ««•..«..•'•*•. . iU^ 

Ode to the Nightingale ^ ......vm* 16% 

Ode to a Lady on the Spring v***v<- '>...**• ib. 

Ode to a Lady whp hates the C;pwitfy v» -r v»< ib. 

Ode to Solitude ibl 

OdetoMr.WestonhisTranslatioDOf-Piiidar. 169 

Stanzas on- takiqg the Air after a loqg lUness. ib.. 

Verses written at Montatiban in FraoCjO^ 1750. t70 



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vni 

Page 

The Dying Indian , 170 

Rerenge of AmericA .....^ ib. 

Bpistle horn TWvmtm He«rae, Antiqnarf, to 
. the Author of the Companioii to the Oxford 

Guide ib. 

Prom ShakHpeure's Twelfth Night HI 

Ode to Mnitc ,.« ib. 

iJnet, written extenporo on seeing tome Sol- 
diers at Wickham, who were going to form 
^ Settiement near Senegambia , ib. 



CDNTEMTS. 



p*i 



Verseaon DnBorton'tDaatfi 

Verses, spoken to the King bj Lord Shaftes- 

'bury...... ., ' 

To Mr. Seward« oo his Verses to Lady YouDg. 
Answer. By W. F. Esq. To Dr. Warton ... 
On not being able to write Verses to Delia ... 

Ode.— O gentle feather-footed sleep 

Verses written on passing through Hackwood 

Park, Aug. 7, 1779 ib 

Ode on the Death of his Father • ib 



ib 
ib 
ib 
17! 
ib 



POEMS OF BLACKLOCK. 



The Author's Life, by Mr. Chalmers , 



175 



To Mr. Thomas Blacklock. By Richard 

Hewitt 181 

An Epistle from Dr. Beattie to the Rev. Mr. 

Thomas Blacklock ib. 

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

Psalm i. Imitated 184 

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

Psalm onxix. Imitated 1^ 

An Hymn to Divin« Lo^e. Ip Imitation of 

Spenser 186 

An Hymn to Benevolence 187 

An Hymn to Fortitude t ib. 

The Wish satisfied, an irregular Ode 1 89 

An Ode to Happiness ib. 

On Evanthe's Absence. An Ode 190 

An Ode to a young Gentleman bound for 

Oninea « 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 

PhikjBophy 192 

4n Ode to Mn. R. on the Death of a promis- 
ing Infimt 193 

An Ode. Written when sick 194 

An Ode to Health ib. 

T» 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 Soojg 195 

3png.-.To the Tone of *« The Braes of Bal- 

lendyne** ih. 

The ravished Shepherd. A Song ib. 

Pastoral Song.— Sandy the gay, the blooming 

swain ib. 

A Pastoral on the Death of Stella. Inscribed 

to her Sister 196 

A Pastoral. Inscribed to Evanthe 197 

A pastoral Elegv. The plaintive Shepherd... 198. 
Dmiderium Lotitis : from Buchiinaii, an al- 
legorical Paibml, in which he regreta his 

Absence from Paris, imitated ib. 

Philauthes: a Mnnody. Inscribed to Miss 

D— y H— y «00 

The Wish : an Elegy. To Urania 209 



On the Death of Mr. Pmie. An Elagy 20: 

Blegy to the Memory of CsMtantia 5M}; 

A Soiikmoy : occasioned by the Asihor't Es- 
cape irom falling into a deep Wdl 20^ 

Miss to the Author 201 

The Author's Answer ih 

L To the same From Edinburgh ... ib 
ir. ToDorinda: with Venice Preserv*d. Sl< 
IIL To Miss Anne Rae : with the Ma- 
nual of Epictotus, and Tablature 

ofCebes ib 

To Miss D. H. in Answer to a Letter she wrote 

the Author from Dumfries • ib 

To Miss A. H. on her Marriage ill 

To the reverend Mr. Jameson 31 

An Epitaph, on hit Father ifa 

To Mrs. Anne Blackkck, the Author's Mothar. 
With a Copy of the Scotch Edition of bia 

Poems : < • il 

Prologue to Othello : spoken by Mr. Love, at 

the Opening of the Play-Houae in Dumfries. 1 1 
Prologue to Hamlet : apcricen by Mr. Love^ at 

Dumfries il 

An Epigram : to a Gentleman, who asked my 

sentiments of him il 

An Epigram: on Punch i* 

An Epigram: on Marriage il 

An Epigram. On the mme 21 

£a E^taph, on a favourite Lap-Dog 

The Autboi's Picture 

Adrice to the Ladies. A Satire 

Horace, Ode xiii. Book i. Imitoted ^1 

An Elegy to a Lady, with HammondVi Elagiea. I 

OdetoAmynta i 

An Elegy. Inscribed to C*- S—- Esq. ft; 

To John M'laurin, Esq. (now Lord Dt^horn* 
one of the Senators of the College of Jua- 

tice.) With the Anther's Poems \ 

Extempore Verses, spoken at the Desire of n 

Gentleman 9 

To the reverend Mr. Spence, fate Professor of 
Poetry at Oxford, written at Dumfries in 

the Year 1759 ,. 

To Dr. Beattie. W1^ the Author*s Poems ... 

Tothe rev. Dr.Ogilvie , 

To a FNend of whose Health and Succcw the 
Author had heard, after a long Absence ... g 

The Gcneak)gy of Nonsense 

Ode, on Melissa's Birth Day ^ 

Ode to Aurora. On M^lissa'k Birth -Day 



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CdlWttlW*^ 



ToIk.Etite ..I...... .:.,..':::.., .•.':.:.;.:•. .::..'.. 2«) 

To Mr. nUstftp tVoi;niR>f of <Jw!Mc in the tjrf- ' 

tenftr of Ediniwir|di 291 

TnZ^.DoviHuniy'fii LdDdoir. ^b. 

T:>lbeBne 922 



To 



: Written ID the Yemr, 1790 ib. 



lock <....»....... '.«.^.. .. /..;..vi. •Kw.\*.iV..U. JL> 5hi9: 1 

trota Dr. DowBmau to Mf«. BladUoola -0&- 
casioded by A Cbpy MVerMrikelMUveiflsdl ' 
to ber Husbttnd •.v.U.i J...;..^</.. ib. 

Prom Di>. HowfitiMa to Dr. BItdUoek ' :\ Hk 



POEArS OF CAMBRIDGE. 



neAutbar*sLife, by Mr. Cbalmen, 227 

Gb tbe Haniage of his Royal Highness Fre- 
deric, Prince of Wales 235 

Inniag: a DuJogoe between Dick and Ned, 
(Uie Amfaor, and Dr. Edvaid Baniard, af- 

lermdaPkotvaftorElan} i. 236 

&«icty ; rnddwrnted to Edward Berkley, Esq. . 239 
Tobaooo i a Taie. Addroaed to J. H. Browne, 
Eiq. AoOior of the •< Pipe of Tobacco^*' in 

testation of six aeTeral Authors ib. 

t ; a PoeflSy written in Imitation of 
descriptive of the Author and 
r of bis Boat's Crew W> 



ia ^pnWgy /^ wvtins Veoe ; addressed to 
the boMMnbte Charles Ybrke 



242 



ti Wa!iaa^W]hit«bead, Esq. (In Answer to an 
Bpisdejp'Cb^ Antbor inserted in his Ufe).. 243 

Ts Lord Biraarat. Imitation of Horace, lib. 
i. Ode XT. ib. 

IW DsBfer of frritiag Verse ; a Dialogue be- 
tseas a yooi^ Poet and his Friend; Ad« 
fcissiJto SirCfaaries Hanbaiy WillamsKnt 244 

i lUogoe between Lofd Docie and bis Horse ib. 

fnbtt '. S46 

il» -••.•••••••• ^ 4^ fq>y.j(r^«..^« #••.««• 255 

■ iV«..««fi»«» •!»«»*, •^•i»*n4 —«.,•••>•«•.*»,»,;. .f .260 
V. ..^, v-v,. 4, S72 

Allabpe I ^ W M i i a;i>epg(t><ijr of j^rPanx^nt ' 
sad bsB Servant, m imitation of the s^entb 
SBtire0f,llieaaeoodBookofHo^ce^.....:.j. ^^ 
TW Iatn4cr« , 1« i^ta^on of Horace, Boo^ /. 

Sstireis.' ....,..., y./28!5 

tW6Ue,9f J^Cbnm^ ^. the Borough Huu)!eic 2AB 

■fts frpSjRfj'nA.lrai^,,.,.... -,...»...,y...,, ib. 

Sifr wntten m' an empty Asseo^bty Room . -[^990 
i r^ il ^ n r b^c<n » dasappoioted Qwdiiiat^;'. . 

^Kcsis oeeaAMied by the Marriage ao4 CfajOAe . 

ict^'^ig^Ma$<4 the same Sfssieo , 1 29;i 

Ob Iba a|»pamtaient of Lord Temple to be 

fifit tofri i>f :»be 4dmiralty. A Parody of 

Afcilo^s Speech' to Phaeton ib. 

AsajsH iMMtancy ; addceised tf> the Earl 

rf -^; ^ 292 

la Mir. Whitehead, on his being made Poet 

laafcat ^... ib. 

Ipiina JSOkcB at Bmry Xane Theatre by 

MissT^mtbe character nf Bliss NoUhle, 

oi the Udy's tast SUke 293 

fiph««e spoken ai Dniry Lane Theatre by 

vouxviif. 



Miss Pritchard, in the Character of Maria, 

in the Tamer TVmed 993 

A Dialogue between Sir Richard Littleton and 
theThames. fn imitation of Horace, B.3LOde9. 294 

To Ozias Humphry, Esq. ib. 

Mr. Wilkes's Soliloqay, the Day befbl« his 
Election for Cbainberlalu of London. A 
Parody of Csesar's Speech hi the Boat. 
Lacan's Pharsalia, lib. 5. 1. 559 995 

On Painting. Addressed to Mr. Patch, a cefo^' ' 
brated Picture Cleaner ib. 

On seeing the Head of Si r Isaac Newton, riehly 
gilt and pjaced by a celebtated^Optidan 
upon the Top of a certain IVmple in a con- 
. spicooos Patt of his Oarden on Richmoi&d ' 
Hill : ;..:«96 

To a Lady who was very handsome, and- had ' 
asked the Author hia O|»lniott ^'thh WMeb 
of Endor lb. 

A parody of Achilles* Speech. Pope*s Ui)ffier, 
- Bwh i.liae309 297 

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

iAn1£4^r^Ui!^ikt'i)i^ \ * 

ten by Sir Grey Cooper 298 

Answer ,.,....,.....,^,; ib. 

The Pro|?refs.Qftiberty ....'..,...............!.:.{ lb. 

On seeing this Motto' to a Prei^ch Paper :'Dulc^ ' 
et d«coriui^ e^t .pro, Patria moti . . .' .^ 1k99. 

To a Friend wiib was a grtet Astr6oonier, re- 
commending the Bearer as a proper Person 
to take Care of his CowiB ..' ib. 

A free Trapslatton of Boilefiau ; Epist I L. 61. 

_ .applied to the immoderate Amhitjon'of France ib. 

''-■'■''• '"kpiokAiiSf. 

td Cinerem aot Manes crddis curare sepultos. ^QQ 
On meeting, at Mr. tJarrick'i, an Aothor rery , 
,j . shabbily dressed in an old velvet Waistcoat, 
on whi^h ^e, li^d sewed Embroidery of a 

laijer 6»te ...,;,..:... - ib. 

Quin*s Death ...1 ib. 

^teon DO (Cuckold .».. ib. 

Imitation of Shakspeare.... ib. 

TheKis^rian in Love : an Impromptu, on see- 
'. ing'his Daughter reading the Life of Mr. 
Gibbon, just after she had been assisting 
Lady Newdrgate ib a Charity for distressed . * 

Ribbon Weavers ib. 

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

Oo seeing a decent looking young Woman , 
. come down a Staircase in Clement's f nn : * 

a Parody of Jane Shore's Speech '. ib. 

To a young Friend, who complained of one 
b 



Digitized by VjOOQ IC 



.Gomrcms 



. of long Vngmh «pi »f MifllMr wba gayei j 

b«d Dinnec*..,... ••,»„.„, <«ti>«««»-..«**^.«^ 361 

lines givcft exteoiponstp Sbctontf^o^yJPh;-. 

liciaii to Cbdsea Hospital, iM»9i^bit egqtret*' 
.. sing Surprise that t^e Scribl^iM wm^ not 

.more known and talked of \«>«.#.«>.v*i.4. ib. 

Translation of some French lines ib. 

A note to the Author >vf4M^ ib. 

His Answer ib, 

Ob seeiDg* a Tapestry Chair-bottoin Wo ti fully 

worhed by bts Daugfatet^for Mrs. kblroyd . ib. 



POEMS OF MASON. 



AtranalatUslif BfOste«nBpl8rtfn^tr.tlidBtoii ' 

VofBi AODB^ssED j4^iafOtfs imwr^ik. tr. am* ' 
^ • ' ' i- "aktoteiBfti? ' : '• 
... .•<♦ -/I 

By HsniT' BesUey; Eh|:;:i^w«i.3.44).uO..<.w«..v»«. ib. 
Venes left on a PedesUi, dx&eilth 'm.Itearto#c 

Elms m Mr. Gambriilgli'sBfttanAq^tlEfitt .;iii3y3 
From Qeorf^e Birch, Esq. on .rcceiTin)r«>LBllfeiro 
froraMr.CambridgsittJntar^ kMfltfhuilBd ;/ 

by CSeorge Selwyn ^....^..../.^J&u(cri303 

■ . t. ;'• -.hi q:^ .r , 



The Author^ \XU, by Mr. ChaUnen .^i... 307 

COMMaKIUl'OKT TUSIS. 

Slcfcy to the Memory of the rey. William 
Maaon. By TfoiMnas Gisboriie M.A 319 

£pitaf6 bo the rev; WiHiam Mason 390 

fStiM^X to liobert Earl of Holdernesse, Baron 
D'Arcy, Menil and Convers, Lord Warden 
of his Majesty's Cinque Port^ and Governor 
of Dover Castle 521 

](f U8adu9 : a Mpoody to the Memnry of Mr. 
P(^. , In Imtt^tjonof MiltAii*s Lycidas «.. 313 

Isis. AJMoDologue. ...•....,.«...,. ». 325 

«'■' ' ' ' oi^: 

I. For Music **...*>.v.;..,i* v *. 326 

II. ForMusio ».»... ..i.*'...*#.r 3«7 

III. To Memory 328 

IV. To a Water Nyrtkph .'. ib.' 

< V. Toan MuitsiHatp'seditd Mitfs Shep* 

'lMu4 •fc.*'.»....i.;.w:,...„..rf.rf..; ■.. 3«e 

VI. To Independency ib. 

VII. Ah! cease this kind persaasivt* Strain... 330 

yill. On the Fate of Tyranny 331 

IX. To the oaval Officers of Great BEffilTo:. I '539 

X. To the honourable William Pitt 333 

XI. Secular ib. 

SLBGJIS. V V V ; • * 

I. To a young Nubletnan leaving the Uni- 
versity 534 

11. Written in the d'sMlc^n of a Friend ...... 3(55 j 

III. To the rev. Mr. Hunl.., ^. ;».'.r.\ 336 

IV. On the Death of a Lady. :,,.;.. ,.4.. »:..;.... ib. 

BPTfAPHS.* 

On Jfcrs. Mason, in the Cathedra! of 'tfrisfol... S57 
Oh MfS<r Drammond, in the CHurch of BroU^r ' . , 



On Mrs. Tatton, in the Church of Wlthen^ba*! ^ 
in Cheshire ,........,.,„.^....„,.^....,. IJ3« 

On Mr. Gray in Westminster Abbey, .o..^,.., ^ ib. 

Inscription on a Pedestal near an Oak oi Knne-. ^ 
ham In Oxfordshire,dedicated to the Memory 
of WHliam Whitehead,, Esq. Poet .Laurent. ,^ib. 

Hymn for York Cathedral .....'.: .:.:::..!. j' ib. 

' • '- \\ i . I <f 

Elfrida. Writtett on the Mode? of tb^tmlent • ' 

Greek Tkagedy .* ..W.*Vi^.,u.i.;.' d4S 

Letters prefixed to the futmer Editiotti^rtK^ 

Pbem 536 

Caractacns. Written On the Model d" tfte < 

ancient Greek iVagedy ..^.w ; ..;... ^57 

Th« English G^irden. 

Book I ,48 ^. .*..*•. 379 

n , .«*.....A*... 383 

in *.. ..,w.^.».,^... 387 

IV 392 

The Art of Painting of Charles Alphonse Do 
Fresngy.^ Translated into English Verse ... 597 

Kpistic to Sir Joshua Reynolds jb. 

Preface ib. 

The Life of Mons. Du Fresnoy 399 

,A9 heroic (%i9Cle to Sir William Chamben, 
Knight...; ^ 410 

An heroic Epistle to the Public, occasioned by 
their favourable Rec^tipn of akite h|ff9ip 



Bpistle to Sir William Chambers/&c, 



^M^ 



' "worth, Yorkshire ,......^.., ,..^.. i|>, 

On John Dealtry, M. D. in the Cathedral o^ 

jotkf.... : ;: ,.;;......,..,:, rj58 f 



Ode to Mr. Pinchbeck, on his,n|?wjy^f^iifqi^*. .^^ 
Patent Cand^-snuffers v-.trr^mWinvAj^ 

AaEpisUe to Dr. Shebbeare -^--v'^To* '^y^ 

^ to Sir Retcher NqrtoiWiiA/ilwti^ 
Hprav^, Ode viju. Book iv..,^.^^.^^..^ ^^ 

TM Dean and the Squire : ^»?»it*'C^[%!l4«Hf ^. 
, .humbly deduate4 toSoajwt Jei?ypviEsq,fr,B,^^ 






the Author's ^fe, by .Mr. Pialpiers .....^.'.., 427 

Frefacc..'. ..:.: , ;...,..",.. 441 

Adyettlsemeiit..... , 1..,. 443 

hniutlon of Horace; Ode xiv. lib. ii/ wiitten 
, St ftmrteen Yean of Age ..'... , „ 445 



POEMS OF JgNES 

Arcadia, a pastoral ^oem ..•^•JohIw -5wO 



. 7l.fl 'Ml J 



Caissaf. or the Game of Chir^ %^.,,^^,u^,„„4^ 
rhe seven FounUiiv*; an Eaftem AlU^wymuv453 

Souma: an Arabian Eclogue Mo»»^4l'4k57 

Uura, an Elegy from Petrarch, »,;i,^...^,al 445 



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eoMDWiM 



\i 



Ob seeqg 8in^** ride Jby him, .wUhaotlmottifK' > 
■?b«r '. ib^ 

Fnn Uw Fermo l^pcpi,^0^tifi, io the Mea- 
OR of tbe Original ib.< 

iamfon Ofituoa oa oalM fUenk^rtboitali 
f«ir4»1Jn«ft'iraflKmMcnd ».«..«.....« Sb. 

ttmfiiWB|iA>iPgHiihrrf'thtf)rifo'tb SsfBHM • 
«(iWavui.f«.ik*43.£iA.4M.L.^.» ..*k*.£« 462 

IteilMMiriyfaaiaBteiQf 30kl^j Siri% 

IWt l lW .. ..M. •••«•••*•. ■•••kk^W*. *..«•.»>.» ... 

t ^oit from a Chonis in the unfinished 

Tnfedy of Sohrab 

U fcrdosh Poets Pienici Foemate HWOtOb. 
BcmAnbica 



ib. 



ib. 

tb. 

463 

ib^ 



iiOdeof Pte^ia^h, to the fbuntain of Val* 
cilctt. '. •. ib. 

V. drVdinire'i P«^|nc]^hraM of t)ie first Stanza, 
CbJR^ficsdlfe, « dofci acqbe 464 

hMdititjIj^aA, 10 th«l^eniao Form and Mea- 
^(ife ...'.,.....^«....'* •.,. ..•• » 465 

Thr Xtase i^eftlM') an Ode on the Nnptlals 
or Lod VBcoQBt Ahh^fp* andJiint La^aMk 
Bvrten, eldest Dmoghter of Charles, Lord 
LattB, March 6;*1«W1 ib. 

^»MMiii*^4Jo»iii.i.»...^...w«.; 466 

iiOdetnioiitaXioii of OdIlstratNB .^ 467 

T»riK'|lMMuOde«r PM«r i.*^.< ib. 

*CbMK Ode paraphrased ..468 

ATt^abOdaaf Masibi ib. 

1W aae, in Imitmtioa -of tbt PevtPili^ttm 
Vawii 469 



LOdeSniea. 
ILOdel 



caaMiauw Lista. 



470 
ib. 



lit; 'AHgtw ^{;s/uiUb...L'.;i';i;Ji'-.*..;l.lv.^;.\*U70 
iVs earn MrMim**- AA^fAMaA^:,:.:,:..,,. ib. 

> . V« AdUeliam ...u «.«.....; ..'..... 47 

Yh Adtimlfai 'U.\\ :».w ♦. 

VII. Ad V«iief«M'...«.'. ».^.;.':;v.; i... ib. 

viifi Adf:iMdimi.u.i.n....w......>..:::i.<i..\':/ ib. 

Ad Labeitotem Cannenv... .'<:.;.;(*.;>.•.. .•.{>.:.... 473 



T 



Hymn to Camdtf •....i^...M*»«*«^aMPfk«^.».^.t^.. 473 
Xwo Hyttina to Pracriti,' ' / , , . 

The Hymn bo 0urga' .1.....V 476 

The Hymn to Bbavani «. 478 

A HymiLio Indra tb. 

AHymntoSurya • 480 

A Hymo to Lacshmi .«, 489 

A Hyma to Karayena 485 

A Hymn to Sereiwaty 486 

A Hymn to Ganga ««- » .^..«*.<r«<«.».'4i8 

TALtS. 

The Palace of Fortane, an lodiav TMe 4.nA^'49l 
The Enchanted Fruit f or, tha Hinda- Wt^jK- J 

An antediluvian Tale «. ••*.«u^, ».:..«* 4115 

Fabttla Penica .••«».•.»•««•»«•. •M»M>'.*..^.«ti>.' i500 



SO^S ANO BAELAPS. / . . / , . ? m.> 

A Penlan Song aftoafi^...^..;L...i)'..A. ;.«!..'. K. 
A BonglhMn «be PWslan, plui^hrti^Mn tbe ' 

Measure of the Original.....*..^.V.w.:!f^.;.» 90^ 
Plassey -plain. A BaU»d .addressed to Lady 

Jones by her Ifusband «..^Mi<.wi.4kJi..«'. ib. 

An Firmament ,,»„,»„,„ ,i»^wi,i,4Ut,^' ib. 

wsaVi.;.. * \'^ ^, . 

i. On t^ Pi>etry.gC. the KiNtem NitiiNis 4... 603 
J|« On the Arts, cozmaooOy called lAileitfTe... 508 



2J^ n ■ . 






POEMS OF BE ATT IE. 



TWI«Aort tifc,'by ftTi^. Chalqiers. 515 

■- te ^. ........'. .;.. 535 

inebc^totfaeBditiool760... 537 

; 538 

'HttaP^^ee '539 

aetmMf*0P*lfMrticYio1y 540 

%b|Ar «! ->-^ w Escaped the gkx>m 

tf Mrt^l'Mb, a 9eni : 54« 

l|*^h^^0 tbb'graiv^is commftted ib. 

B(i7 — Tir'd with the busy crowd*, that all 

tieday ib. 

I^ia i^;»«»i^ of Shalttpeare*s Bhw^ Mms; 

(Ml »i«icr «nju/ 3cc. 543 

^Mmm ib. 

B(9.r~SliU iluill npthinking man substantial 

^tm 544 

<]fctaHa^ 545 

^nMBO^OMO-Machiu : the Battle of the 

^*9*i* Old Granei. From the tatin of 

44**i-.* 546 

^Ifcm. AFable-:..; 547 



Epitaph: being Paft of an lasoription ^ra 
Monument to be .erected by aGentieimm 
to the Memory of hfti Lady 549 

Odeon Lord H**'s Birth-day ib. 

To the right hon. Lady CharlotteGordon.diaessed 
In a Tartan Scotch Bonnet, with Plumes kc, 55Q 

The Hermit , ib. 

On^ the Report of a Monument to be erected ., , 
in IVestmiiister Abbey, to the Memory of a 
late Author. (Churchill) '551 

Part of a Letter to a Person of Quality ib. 

The' Judgment of Paris 552 

The Wolf and Shepherds, a Fable 557 

TtANStATIOllS. 

Anacreon, Odsxxii. v..^^.»,. .jf5^ 

The Beginning of the first Book of Lucretius'^ .ik 

Horace. Book ii. Ode x J, ik 

Horace. Book iii. Ode xiii. ••, «,.,,. .^^^ 

The Pastorals of Virgil : 
Pastoral I .:.,;.'.V..;':,.'*ib. 



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su 



lit 
IV. 

v: 

VL 
VIL 



CONTENtS. 



560 

564 
565 
566 
567 



PirtormlVin 

The Bfinistrd : or, the Pro^roi of Genius, 

IL ^ -.....-^ 577 



568 
570 
571 



POEMS OF COWPER. 



The Aotfaor^s life^bir BCr* Chaloien 

Table-^dk 

Progrenof Ennoar 

TVnth 

Bipottttlataoa 

Hope.. 






Charity..... ^ 

ConTeTMtioQ 

RstireniieDt • 

Tbe yearly Diitren, or Tiihing Time at Stock 
inEoex ^ 

Sonnet to Henry Cowper, Esq. 

lioei addressed to Dr. Danrin 

On Mri. Montague's Feather Hangings ..'«... 

Verses sufiposed to be written by Alexander 
Selkirk, during his Abode in the Island of 
Juan PcffuHHues .«..• ••••••••.•••.. ••• 

On tbe Promotton of Edward Thurlow, Esq. to 
the Chamfeliorsbip of England 

Ode to Peace 

Human Frailty • «,.«#...-, ' 

The modem Patriot * •*,• 

Ob obBerriog some Names of little Note m- 
corded in tbe Biographia Britannica 

]UpQrtx>f anai^dgedCasenot to be found 
in any of the Books - ...>^.... 

On the burning of Lord Mansfield's library . 

On the same 

The Love of the World reproved 

On the death of Lady Throckmorton's Bulflnch 

The Rose 

The Doves 

Fable.— A raven while with glossy breast. 

A Comparison 

Another addressed to a young Lady 

Tbe Pbet's new Year's Gift 

Ode to Apollo » ,- 

Pairing Time anticipated, a Fable , 

Tlie Dog and the Water-lily '. 

The Poet, the Oyster, and the Sensative Plants 

The Shrnbbery 

The Winter Nosegay 

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

The Negro's Complaint *....t,^. 

Pity for poor Africans , 

The Morning Dream 

The Nightingale and Glow-worm 

On a Goldfinch starved to Death in his Cage . 

The Pine-apple and tbe Bee ....«.., 

Horace^ Book the Sd» Ode the 10th 



586 
605 
611 
615 
630 
6125 
631 
636 
649 

648 
649 

ib. 

ib. 



ib. 

651 

ib^ 

ib. 



ib 
652 

ib. 

ib. 
653 

ib. 

ib. 
654 

ib. 

ib. 

ib. 

ib. 
655 

ib. 
656 

ib. 

ib. 

657 

ib. 
658 

ib. 

ib. 
659 

ib. 

lb. 



A Reflection od the foragoiqg Ode ...<..•..'...«»;. G6af. 

The Lily and the Rose k^.l... ib. 

Idem Latine Redditnm .......««..<^.j.i^. ibi 

The Poplar Field :..*«. ^.w.... ib. 

Idem LaAine Redditim i.^-^u;.,/. • tb!.' 

Votum i..«dl 

Cicindela, by VinoeniBoufne . ......* i.iw.i. ib^ ' 

Tbe Glow-worm. Translation of tbe for^oiUg^ ib. 

Comicnia, by Vinoant Bourne, «»«.,. .Iu.l.' ib* ' 

The Jaekdaw. TrHMlatien of the ifeagein^ . i ik. 
Ad Grilluou Anacreontsea*^ by ViaiBeak > 

Bourne «•».».. w(>.Mt>.»....w.f..tM<u.i.u#^ i66S' 

The Cricket. TVanilation of the fora«aiog^y«« i ibL' 
Simile agit in Simile, by Vincent Bourne .....i" fo. 
The Parrot. ThMtflationoftbefoMgoing ./« 4bi« 
Tbe Task: .^ .. ... 1 

Book L Tbe Sofii i.a.<^..w.<4 ib. 

If. Tbe Time-piece ....^.».^;.^/«.j.. '6752^ 

in. TheGai^n ....ijy.. 7711. 

IV. The Winter Evening^ . ^«».«.«.«« 685 

V. The Winter Morning walk ....;.a. «9l 
VL The Winter walk at Noon 69& 

.EpisUe to Jowpb Hill, Esq i 706 

Tirocli^am: or aSeri««of Sehoob«.M...w^^. ib. 

To tbe rev. Mr. Newton ...^;* 713 

Ca^arioa • • «...»..n.««,v«4.....^4.1.«i..«v. ibi" 

Tbe Moralizer corrected. »» «.^..«.;. .^^i4- 

The faithful Bird y...«.i.».j^«.^... ib/ 

The needless Alarm * .:;..4*«»..i.4««^Mt 7L9 

Boadicea ;. ...^<. 716' 

Heroism ...•...'.«....t.4.3.^u. ibj' 

On tbe Receipt of my Meliie^s PiMote«ot 

of Norfolk ;.v-»..-..- 7JT 

Friendship y i....^ 7<18^ 

On a mischievous Bull which the Owner of faim 

sold at tbe Aothor*s Instnnee * 7.19' 

Annus Memorabilis, 1789. Written in CsMSr: . 

memorsrtion ofbb Majesty'n happy Reui a wy l 'MD 
Hymn.fortbeUseoftheSminySeboplatOhBelr tbr 
Stanzas ttd>joioed to a fiiU, of MiMtelity4er.i^ * I 

the Year 1787 ,'.tJ...;...v/i>JL ^ JW 

Oa a similar Occasion for 17S8^v.^:.;<4«w^ajj.<; ii '^fST 

The same for 1789 ....^^..0.^^ «.v^.Lu.i;vj<Al fflt 

The same ft>r 1790 ..,....,,-.-......... ..:.^*.7;c,j^i TflO 

The same for 1793 4*t.4i...»»Jj<»v.4M)«U«'(< ib.» 

Tbe same for 1793 ..^.. ».»..«*.«.«•.. 4. v,-<.u;iv)iU 'cibl 
Inscription for tbe Tomb^of Mk» Hamilfisn-^aii' IBS 
Epitaph on aHaie .«...»..«4».v«..<..4i«rf«..iy^4.:v^« 'tiSSi 

Epitaphium Altenim .».« ^\,i^,i,^:,Xk^ ib.r 

Aoconut of the Treatm«ntof his.Haieso/u.tia^. iibw 
) , • • ip 'I V 



C» WkHtlnfham, PrlntfeTi Gotwtll Street, London. 



Digitized by LjOOQ IC 



THE 

POEMS 



OF 



NATHANIEL COTTON, M.D. 



youxniL 



' Digitized by LjOOQ IC 



Digitized by VjOOQ IC 



THE 



LIFE OF COTTON. 



BY MR. CHALMERS. 



vfF Dr. Cotton's early history no account has been given by bb numerous reladons. 
Frwn a passage in one of his letters that will be mentioned hereafter, it may be con- 
cluded with some degree of probability, that he was bom in the year nojy but in 
mhat county, or of what family, b 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 h» return, he endeavoured to establish himself as a general ptactitioner, but 
arcomstaDces leading him more particularly to the study of the various species of 
kaacy, he vfas induced to become the successor of a Dr. Crawley, who kept a house 
ht the reception of lunatics at Dunstable in Bedfordshire ; and having engaged the 
kottse-kceper, and prevailed on the patients' friends to consent to their removal, he 
opened a house for their reception at St Albans. 

Bene he continued for some years, addin[{ to his knowledge of the nature of mental 
^MMderSy and acquiring considerable fame by the success and humanity of his mode of 
fteatmcot. When his patients began to increase, he found it necessary to have a larger 
haase, where he formed a more regular establishment, and dignified it by the name of 
Tbe College. His private residence was in St. Peter's^treet, in the town of St. Albans, 
mA was long known as the only honse in that town defended from the efGscts of 
%klniDg by a conductor. 

IW cares of his college, and the education of his numerous fiimfly, oocopied near 
Ike whole of his long life. His poems, and prose pieces, were probably the amuse« 
man of each hours as he could snatch from the duties of his professbn. He carried 
ea alM an CKtennve correspondence with some of the literary characters of the day, 
hv whom, as well at by all who knew htm, he was beloved for his amiable and en*^ 
gpigbg nmmers; among others, he corresponded with Dr. Doddridge^ , and appears 
to have read nmch, and thought much on subjects which are usually considered at • 
[ to the^provnice of divines. 



1 AMBg Dr. Doddridge's Uttm,piibliBk»dial7dP,bnaflb9tiivk^ Dr. Oottoo, on tlie 



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4 UFE OP COTTON. 

He is not blown to baTe produced any thing of the medical kind^ eioept a 
quarto pamphlet, entitled Obsenrations on a particular kind of Scarlet Fever that 
lately prevailed in and about St. Albans, 1749. The dates of some of his poetical 
pieces show, that he was an early suitor to the muses. Hb Visions in Verse, were first 
published in 1751 » again in 176^ 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 179U ^ 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 m the Gentleman's Magazine, who appears to have known Dt. 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 1738, to 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 Osbom^ 
esq. of St« Albans, and died without issue, Nov. 2, 1 790 ; 2. Anne, who became the 
second wife of major Brjooke of Bath, and died July 19, 1800, leaving a son and 
daughter, since dead ; 3. Nathaniel, who was entered of Jesus CoBege, Cambridge, 
where he proceeded B. A. 1766, and M«A. 17^9, and is 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. smce dead ; ۥ Katha- 
rine, who died unmarried, Dec/ 2, 178O, and is buried under an altar tomb m the 
church yard of St Peter's, St Albans, with the two following lines under her name : 

Time wm, like thee, she life powea'd. 
And time thall be^ that tlKM fhalt iMt 

He had also by hb first wife, a son andl daughter, who died in infiuiey. Ife mar- 
tied, secondly, in ]730» or 1 751, Miss Hannah Everett, who died May 1772^ leaving 
a too, now living, and two daughter^, since dead. 

From his letfeevs it appears, that flt>oat the year 1780 his health was guntiy im* 
paired. He was much emacial ed , and his limbs so weak, as to be insufieient \p sup- 
port hia weight The languors, likewise, which be suffered, were^o frequent nod se» 
vere, as to tbrealen an entire stop to the drcntation, and were sometimes acoompanied 
with that most distressing of all sensations, an anxiety eirca prmeardkk His BMmory 
loo began to fiiil, and any subject which requiieda little thought was a buifthcB hasrdly 
supportable. He died AuguA 2, 1788, and we are lohi his age was so iw unknowa^ 
t}Kat the persoa who entered his burial in the parish register, wrote after his Qame^ 
** eighty-^ight at least." Foom the letter, however, aUuded to in the beginning ^ this» 
mtmiMff, we may attain' rather more ^certainty ia this matter. That letter was written 
on tiie death of his daughJber Katharme, in 1780, when he sajs^ ** ht had paased 
almost three winters beyond the usual boaudarj appropriated t» httaum IShp and Imd 
thus transcended the longevity of a septuagenarian^ Thii^ thcM&w^ will fin Iris nga 
at eighty-one, or eighty-two. 

He was uiterred with his two wives m St. Peter's church-yard, under an altar-tomb» 
between those of his two daughters, Mary, and Katherinc, on which nothing more ia 



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LIFC OF COTTON. « 

Him " Hoc Me dcpotited tfae icanin of Aane, HaMMh, aad Nathaiuel 

If M ham hm pftHkdan ef the life of Dr. Oottoo, we have nuioy testunonies to 
Ihecaedleiioe of hk character. We find from Mr. Hayley's Life of Cowper, that be 
had aft OM tioM, aoMmg bis patitets, that amiabk and interestiog poet, wbo tpeaki of 
Ik. Cottoa's aenioei, io a maimer that ibrms a noble tribute to his memory. The 
kiter m wk\A this panage occurs, is dated Joly 4, 1765. 

** I leckoo it one instance of the Providence that has attended me throughout this 
uhole event, that untead of being delivered mto the hands of one of the London pby- 
■aini» who were so much nearer that I wonder I was not, I was carried to Dr. Cot- 
tau. I was not only treated by him with the greatest tenderness while I was ill, and 
with the utmost diligence, but when my reason was restored to me, and I had so much 
need of a religious friend to converse with, to whom I could open my mind upon the 
sal^ect without reserve, I could hardly, have found a fitter person for the purpose. 
Ifj cagemcm and anxiety to settle m; opinions upon that long neglected point, made 
it iMK— ly, tliat while my mind was yet weak, and my spirits uncertain, I should have 
tome MBrtance The doctor was as ready to admmister relief to me in this article 
fkemmt, and as wdl qualified to do it as in that which was more immediately his pro- 
viaee. Haw naoy pbyiicians would have thought this an irregular a(^)etite, and a 
symptooi of femaimng madness! But if it were so; my friend was as mad as myseif» 
■d it k weU for me that he was so.*" 

Mr* Uayley says, that Dr. Cotton was ^ a scholar and a poet, who added to many 
aoooop lishments, a peculiar sweetness of manners, in very advanced life," when Mr 
Haylej had tiie "pleasure of a personal acquaintance with him. In a subsequent part 
rf Us Life of Cowper, the latter, alludmg to an mquiry respecting Dr. Cotton's works, 
pm tiie firflowiug compliment to his abilities'—'* 1 did not know that he had written 
my tfiiog newer than his Visions : I have no doubt that it is so far worthy of him as 
Id be piooa and sensible, and I believe, no man living is better qualified to write on 
sadb aabjeds, as his title seems to announce. Some years have passed aince I heard 
tnm him, and considering his great age, it is probable that I shall hear from him no 
■OK, bvt I shall always lesptd him. He is truly a philosopher, according to my 
jadgBMOt of the character, every tittle of his knowledge in natural subjects, being con- 
ascited Jn his mind, with the firm belief of an omnipotent agent.'' 

To tlMse testimonies, which can be corroborated by a perusal of his writings^ little 
need be added. His writmgs are uniformly in frivour of piety and benevolence, and 
Ui cmT cy ondepce, from which many extracts are given m the kte edition of his 
ipoifcs^ justifies the high lespect in which he was held by his numerous friends. His 
prase pieces consist of reflections on some parts of Scripture, which he has entitled 
. and various Essays on Health, Husbandry, Zeal, Marriage, and other mis* 
topics. One of these, entitled Mirza to Selim, (an imitation of Lyttelton's 
Letters) is said to relate to the death of the rev. Rol>ert Romney, D. D. vicar 
ef SL Altians^ which happened m 17i3. When dying, this gentleman propheaed that 
hii htother and heir would not long eiyoy his inheritance, which proved true, as he 
disd ia June 1746. — Some of these EsAiys were probably written for the periodical 
, and othe0 for the amusement of private friends. 



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6 LIFE OP COTTOir. 

Hb abiEtiesas a poet demand no parade of critkisin. He appears to have written 
with ease, and had a happy turn for decorating his reflections in familiar verse : but 
•we find very little that is original, fendful, or vigorous. He scarcely ever attempts 
imager^-, or description, and no where rises beyond a certain level diction adapted to 
the class of readers^ whom he was most anxious to-pkase. Yet his Visions have been 
popular, and deserve to continue so. Every sensible and virtuous mind acquiesces in 
tiie truth, and propriety of his niosal reflections, and will love the poems lor the sak^ 
of the writer. 



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TO THl 

DOWAGER COUNTESS SPENCER, 

THESE TWO SBfAIX VOLUMES ABB, BY PEBMISSIOK, 
INSCRIBED. 

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

H£E ladyship's 

most obliged^ and most obedient servant, 

Nathaniel Cotton^ 



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POEMS 



OP 



NATHANIEL COTTON. 



FABLES. 



TU 






FABLE L 

and difif«aM in<mr 
ike dstintciwe conupuwcm qf 



W 



IB BKi» ram Am, ahd tox iPAiaow. 

dnn, *!■ and in days of old, 

1 codM talk, and biids cooM 
it fecflM the hmnan race 
tte ipeaker'i place. 
\ ■ icpoct ba tniey 
mA the tile relates to 70a) 
■et a spairov, ant, and bee, 
vesson'd and convened as we. * 
TCBda Bj page will doubtless granty 
Pke^ &e vise tndoatrioQs aoL 

viHi lialf an erfe may see, 
dly^ if die busy bee* 
tfaflB are two— Bat wbere^s the third ? 
yoor sebooi, you 'n find the bird. 
' 1 I ask yonr pardon, fiur, 
An inre jon 11 find no qparrow there. 

Sssr to Bj tde.— ;One somner's morn 
A hne Tm^f^ o^er the verdant ktini j 
ftndfane to hnshand ercry hoor, 
And anke ^m nsost of every flow*r. 
": to stalk she fiiesik 
I nHh ydkar wax her thighs; 
I wfckA the artist bnflds her comb, 
lad haepa aU tight and wann at home ; 
<> fipBB tbe cowslip^ golden bells 
asckshoDey to cmeh her ceils; ^ 

Or tm| twp t iq g rose ifaianes. 
Or apa tte lay's ftagrsnt dews, 
Temew rfobet hes Mning 
Olr ss Mto b e auty, nr peininie. 
tkns Ae ^Khaig'd m every way 
Iha vvow duties of the day. 
Itcksae'd a firqgnl ant was near, 
"" rwwiiBTOvM 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 thoo^ ; 
That poverty on 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 gram. 
And drag the heavy load with pain. 
The active bee with pleasure saw 
The ant fulfil her parents' law. 
'* Ah ! sister-labourer,** says she, 
" How very fortunate are we I 
Who, taught in in&ncy ta know 
The comforts which from labour fiow. 
Are Independent of the great. 
Nor know the wints of pride and stste. 
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 pursuob 
Whence our complacency of mind f 
Because we act our parts assigned. 
Have we incessant tasks to do ? 
Is not all nature busy too } 
Doth not the Sun wit)i constant pace 
Persist to ran his annual race ? 
Do not the stars which rtiine so bright, 
Benew thdr counes every night ? 
Doth not the ox obedient bow 
His patient neck, and draw the plough f ' 
Or when did e*er the generous steed 
Withhold his labour or his speed ) 
U you all nature's system scaa, 
f is max 



The only idle thing i 

A wanton q;iarrow longM to hear 
This sage discoarsey and straight drew 1 
The biitl was talkative and load. 
And very pert^ and very proud ; 
As worthless and as vain a thof 
Perhaps as ever wore a wing. 
^ found, as on a spimY ehe saL 

daq^faichat; 



The little fritonds were i 



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10 



COTTON'S POEMS. 



That virtue was their fkrourite theme. 
And toil and probity their scheme : 
Such talk was batefol to her breast, 
She. thought them arrant pnides at be9t 
When to displays her miugfaty mindy 
Hungei' with cruelty combin'd ; 
She view'd the ant with savage eyes. 
And hopt, and hopt to snatch her prize* 
The bee, who watch'd her opening bill^ 
And guess*d her fell 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 I 'm disposM to dine, 
I think the whole creation mine ; 
That I 'm a bird of high degree. 
And every insect made far me. 
Hence oft I search the emmet brdod. 
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 ! fie,*> the honest bee replyM, 
** I fiear you make base man your gnidb 
Of every creature sure the worst, 
Tho' in creation*s scale the first ! 
Ungrateful man ! 'tis strange be thrives, 
"Who burns the bees to rob their hives 1 
I bate his vile administration, 
And so do all the emmet nation. 
What fatal foes to birds are men, 
Quite from the eagle to the wren ! 
Oh t do not men's example take, 
W^ho mischief do for mischiePs sake ; 
But spare the ant^-her worth demanda 
£st«em and friendslup at your hands. 
A mind, with every virtue blest. 
Mutt raise compassion in your breast* - 

*< Virtue •" rejuin'd the sneering bird, 
" where did you learn that gothic word? 
Since I was hatcb'd 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 romance^ 
I cannot reconcile your fancies. 
Vrtue in fairy tales is seen 
To play the goddess or the queen f 
Bat what's a queen without the pow% 
Or beauty, child, without a dow'r i 
Yet this is all that virtue brags ^ 
M best 'tis only worth in rags. 
Soch whims my very heart derides. 
Indeed you make me burst my sides. 
TVust me, miss Bee— to speak the truth, 
I 've copied man from earliest youth ; 
Ute same our taste, the same oar school 
Passion and appetite our rule ; 
And call me bird, or call me sinner, 
I '11 ne'er forego my sport or dinner.'? 

A prowling cat the miscreant spies, 
And wide expands her amber eyes. 
T^ear and more near Grimalkin draws. 
She wags her tail, protends her paws ; 
Then springing on her thoughtless prey, 
fibe bore the vicioiis bird away. 

Thus in her cruelty and pride. 
The wicked; wanton sparrow dy'd. 



FABLE ir. 



That tru$ virtue coruutt in action, and not 
.^fecukUitnu 

• ma SCRpLAB AND TRB CAT. 

Laboue entitles man to eat. 

The idle have no claim to meat. 

This rule must every station fit. 

Because 'tis drawn from sacred writ. 

And yet, to feed bo such condition. 

Almost amounts to prohibition. 

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

To eat soup maigre all the jrear. 

And wou'd not Oxford's cloister'd sod 

By this hard statute be undone ? . 

In truth, your poet, were be fed 

No oft'ner thatt he eariis lri» brea^. 

The vengeance of this law wouCd fod. 

And often go without a meaL 

It seem'd a scholar and his cat 
Together join'd in social chat 
When thus the letter'd youth began— 
" Of what vast consequence is man ! 
Lords of this nether globe we shine. 
Our tenure's held by right divine. 
Bere independence waves its plea. 
All creatures bow the vassal knee. 
Nor earth alone can hound our reign. 
Ours is the empire of the main. 

" True-Hnan's a sovereign prince^— bat my. 
What art sustains the numarch's sway. 
Say from what source we iietch sapplies, 
I'is here the grand inquiry lies. 
Strength is not man's--4br strength most snft 
Best with the structure t>f a brute. 
Nor traft nor cunning ean suffice, 
<A fox might then dispute the prizOi 
To god-like reason 'tis we owe 
Our ball and sceptre here below. 

" Now your associate next explains 
To whom precedence appertains. 
And sure 'tis ea^ to divine 
The leaders of this royal line. 
Note that all tradesmen I attest 
But petty princes at the best 
Superior excellence you 'II find 
In those, who cultivate the mind. 
Hence beads of colleges, you 'U own. 
Transcend th' assessors of a throne. 
Say, Evans, have you ^y doubt ? 
You cant ofiend by speaking out" 

W;ith visage placid and sedate, • 
Puss thus address'd her learned mate. 

" We're told that none in Nature's pla» 
Disputes pre-eminence with man. 
But this is still a dubious case 
To me, and all our purring race. 
We grant mdeed to partial eyes 
Men may appear supremely i^se. 
But our sagacknis rabbies hold. 
That all which glitters is not gold. 
Pray, if yoor haughty daikns be true. 
Why are our manners ap'd by you ? 
Whene'er you think, all cats agree;. 
You shAt your optica, just aB we. 
Pray, why like cats so wrapt in though 
If ypu by cats were never taught } 
. But know, our tabby schools maii^^jp 
1 Worth is not centei^d in tht braia. 



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FABLES. 



11 



ICot Ifcat Mr ««|tes timght deipiw— 

3m>— but in acikm Tiitue lies. 

We fiad it by eacperience fiusty 

l^aitlioogitt must npen into aflt ; 

Or ai no real fame acqaires. 

Bat virtue in the bad expires. 

Tte point yoar orchard can d^ide— 

Observe its ^y antumnnl pride. 

For treet are held id high repute, 

Not fer their blonoms, but tbeir fruit 

If fo^ then Millar's ^ page decrees 

Mere stfaobrs to be barren trees. 

But if these varioos reasons fail, 

iet my example onoe prevaiL 
* When to yonr chamber yon repttr; 

Tonr u ro p e t ty employs my care. 

Aad vrtiile you sink in sweet repose^ 

Mv faitfalul eyelids never close. 

liliAi banger prompts the mouse to steal. 

Then I dspiay my honest zeal ; 

Trae ID my charge, these talons s^ize * 

The vietcfay who dares purloin your cheese. 

Or ihoald the thief assault your bread, 

I Arike tbe audacions felon dead. 

** Nor say 1 sf^ng at smaller game^> 
My ptDif c s s slaugbtcr'd rats proclaim. 
Fm lold, your generals often fly. 
When danger, and when death are nigh : 
Kav, when nor death nor danger's near, 
As foor coQtt-inartials make appear. 
VIko in yoar service we engage, 
▼e brave the pilfering villaip^s rage ^ 
Ke'er take adTaotage of the night. 
To aeditate inglorious flight ; 
BtM itand reaolv'd, when foes defy. 
To oonqner, or to bravely die. 

** Hcaue, bookwonm, learn our duty hero- 
b active life in every sphere. 
Koov too^ tliere 's scarce a brute but ^an 
lin snpercitioas man." 



FABLB III. 



7W snr forHtude and perseverance should be pro- 
partianaie io ike degree and duration of our tuf- 
ftrimgt. 

irafTOHB Aia> TU MABlMtaSb 

Warn sore calamities we feel,. 

Aad aorrow treads on sorrow's heel, 

Onr coarage and our strengib, we say, 

Are inaadBcknCfur the day. 

This BMUi's m poor dejected elf. 

Who fein would run away from self. 

Tot tnra to Germany, you '11 find 

ita atlni of a human nund t 

Sat heie 1 deviate feom my plan. 

For Proasin's king is more than man I 

hfciiui beings soit my rhyme, 

Mysehcmeiy my genius, and my time ; 

Mm, birds, and beasts, with now and then 

A pspm god, to grsoe my pen. 

A vcskI boond Ibr India's coast. 
The mBnefanats confidence and boast, , 
Pan fath to sea — the gentle deep 
~ I iti boisteixMH god asleep. 

1 Tits writer on Botany. 



Three cheeiful shouts the sailorti gat«i 
And zephyrs curl the shining wave. 
A halcyon sky prevails awhile. 
The iritons and the nereids smile. 
These omens &irest hopes impress. 
And half insure the George sucoess. 

What casual ills these hopes destroy I 
To change how sUl^t every joy I 
When dangers most remote appear. 
Experience proves those dangers near. 
Thus, boast of health whene'er you please. 
Health is next neighbour to disease 
Tis prudence to suspect a foe. 
And fortitude to meet tbe blow. 
In wisdom's rank he stands the first. 
Who stands prcpar'd to meet tbe wont* 

For lo ! uunomber'd clouds arise. 
The sable legions spread the skies. 
The storm aroond the vessel raves. 
The deep displays a thousand graves. 
With.active hands and fearless hearts 
The sailors play their various parts ; 
They ply the pumps, they furl the sails, 
Yet nought their diligence avails. 
The tempest thickens every hour. 
And mocks the feats of human pow*r. 

The sailors now their fate deplore, 
Estrang'd to every fear before. 
With wild surprises their eye-balls gbun^ 
Their honest breasts admi^ despair. 
All farther efforts, they decline. 
At once all future hopes resign ; 
And thus abandoning their skilC « 
They give the ship to drive at will. 

Straight enter'd with majestic grace, 
A form of roone than human race, 
The god an azure mantle wore, 
His hand a forked scqvtre bore ; 
When thus tbe monarch of tbe main— « 

" How dare you deem your labours vain } 
Shall man exert himself the less, 
Because superior dangers press ? 
How can I think your heart sincere, * 
Unless you bravely persevere > 
Know, mortals, that when perils rise. 
Perils enhance the glqrious prize. 
But, who deserts himself, shall be 
Deserted by the gods and me. 
Hence to your charge, and do your bes^ 
My trident shall da all the rest." 
The marines their task renew, 
AU to their destin'd province flew. 
The winds are hush'd— the sea subsides. 
The gaUaut George in safety rides. 



FABLE IV. 



The folly of pasting a hasty and derogatory judg-* 
ment upon the noxious animais of the creation* 

TBI 8BAV AND THB VIPER. 

All wise philosophers maintain 
Nature created, nought in vain. 
Yet some with supercilious brow. 
Deny the truth asserted now. 
What if I show that only man 
Appears defective in the plan ! 
Say, will the sceptic lay ande 
His sneers, his arrogance, and pride ? 



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n 



COTTONV 70EM8. 



A DMiiy ifl^MNtM Iniii nQM Trmcty 
Whose study was to dreauddaiMe; 
Who had betimes, in Gallia's sohooly 
Grafted the coxcomb oo the fool ; 
Approached a wood one sommer's day. 
To icreen him from the scorchiBg ny« 
And as he traversM thro* the grove. 
Scheming of gallantry and love^ 
' A viper's spiry folds were seen. 
Sparkling with asure, gold, and gfsen ; 
The beau indignant, weak, and ptnod. 
With transport thus exclaim'd alood :-* 

'* Avaunt, detested fiand otnight I 
Thou toitare to the hmnan sight I 
To every reptile a disgrace. 
And fatal to oar god-like nee. 
Why were such creatures form*d as yon. 
Unless to prove my doctrine true ; 
That when we inew this netiier sphere^ 
Kor wisdom'uor design appear V , 

Tlie serpent rais'd his angry crest, 
An honest zeal inflamM his breast 
His hissings struck the Ibpling^ ear. 
And shook his very soul with fear. 
** Inglorious wretch I** the viper cries, 
^How dare you broach infernal lies) 
Is there, in all creation's cham, 
A link so worthless and so vain ? 
Grant that your dress were truly thiaa. 
How can your gold compare with mine ? 
Yoar vestments are of gart^ hne, 
Mine boast a far superior blue. 

'* You style me reptile in contenqpt. 
You are that very reptile Qseant ; 
A two-legg*d thing which crawls on earth. 
Void of utility anii worth. 

*' You call me jfatal to your laofr— 
Was ever chaige so false and base ? 
You can't in all your annals find. 
That unprovoked we hurt mankind. - 
Uninjur'd men in mischief deal. 
We only bite the hostile haeL* 

" Do not we yield our lives to Ibed, 
And save your vile distemper'd bread. 
When leprosy pollotes your veiaa. 
Bo not we purge the kMthsome stains I 
When riot and excess prevail. 
And health, and strength, and apirils bit; 
Doctors from us their aid derive. 
Hence penitential rakes revive. 
We bleed to make the oaiCiA dma ^ 
Or drown to mediopla their wine. 

« Voo ask> my poisan to whataad ^ 
Mintt|e philosopher, attend. 

*' Nature, munificent and wise^ 
TV> all our wants adapts supplies. 
Our frames are fitted to our need, 
tience greyhounds are endu'd with speed. 
IJoos }Sy iace their prey nhdne. 
By force maintain their empire loo i 
But power, althb^ the lion's iame^ 
Was never known the viper's claim. 
Observe, when I unroll my length- 
Say, is my structure finrm'd fot streo^th r 
JMh not celerity imply 
br \eg$ to nm, or wmgs to fiy ? 



tUpon some 
forved to ^ble-aa 



locasioM aaen Vf dtm^ ^ioA 



My jaws are oonstitnled weak. 
Hence poison lurks behind my check. 
Ai lightnmg quick my fhags convey 
This liquid to my wounded prey. 
The venom thus insarre my bite. 
For wounds preclude the viotim^s il^bt. 

*' * 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 brates with claws }* 

** Can such weak arguments persuade f 
Ask rather, why were vipors nsade ? 
To me my poison's more than wealth, t 
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 being toa 
And you 'd, as doctors all agree, 
A sovereign medicine lose in me. 

** Now learn, 'tis airognnoe in man. 
To censure what he cannot scan. 
Nor dare to charge Gpd's works with ill. 
Since vipers kind designs fulfil : 
But give injurious scruples o'er. 
Be still, be humble, and adore." 



FABLE V. 



Tkatkapptnettii much more equally ^itrihuted^ 
the generalUy qf mankind are apprized qf, 

THl SNAIL AMD TSK GAtDEKSa. 

Wbbn sons of fortune ride on high, 
How do we point the admiring eye ! 
With fonlish (ace of wonder gaze. 
And often covet what we praise. 
How do we partial Nature chide. 
As deaf to every son beside 1' 
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; 
Men by comparisons are taught. 
Nature is not so much in fault 
Yet mark my tale— the poet's pen 
Shall vindicate her ways to men. 

Within a garden, €sr from town. 
There dwelt a snail of high renown ; 
Who, by tradition as appears. 
Had been a tenant sever^ years. 
She spent her youth in wisdom'^ pag»— 
Hence honour'd and rever'd in age. 
Do snails at any time contend. 
Insult a neighbour, or a firiend ; 
Dispute their property, and sh9^ 
Or m a cherrjr, 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 heraelf decay. 
Death sent mementos every day. 
Her drooping strength sustains no more 
The shell, which on her hack she bora. 



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FABLES. 



a 



Tte cfB bad lost ite ▼imd ait, 
IWIwivj eu- lefbi'd its part ; 
7W teeth performM their office ni» 
iad tvitj niciiiber ftiPd her will. 
Bit m» defects id mhid appear, 
fier iatellacU a*e strong and dear. 
Tb«f when bis glonoiis coQrse is ron, 
Bw brightly shines the letting Snn! 

Tbc oews thro* alt the garden spread^ 
IVe DoghboQis throog*d about ber bed j 
Cheerfiil Ae raos'd her voice aloud, 
isd tfaos addresB*d the weeping crowd. 

** My friends, I "m hasfhing to the grave^ 
hd faiow, nor plum, nor peach can savet 
To, to tiioae otansions go I must. 
Where oar good fiitfaers sleep in dust 
yorsfli I backward to eiqplore 
Thsi gloomy vale they tnid before. 
^GHWt ffste^ decree what can I say ? 
Lfte other snaits I 've had my day. 
Fan Biaay sommer sons I 've seen» 
tad BOW die gratefbl and serene. 

" If men the higher pow*T8 arraign, 
SbJl we adopt the plaintWe strain ? 
Nstare, proAise to ws and ours, 
Httb kindly baJt these stately tow*r8 ; 
Wkoe, when the skies in night are drest» 
Seesie from every ill we rest. 
Sarfcy oor curiouB structure well — 
Bm firm, and yet bow light our shell ! 
Oar lefige, when cold storms invade. 
Mad in the do^-days* beat our shade. 

** Thus when we see a fleeter race, 
We II not lament our languid pace.. 
Sb rfsnjpriB rise, or foes withstaof] ? 
ke not oor castles close at hatid ? 
V let a snail at distance roam, 
Tse boppy snail is still at borne. 

^ Survey oar gardens' blest retreats— 
0^ ! what a paradbe of sweets ! 
^<b what variety it's stoHd ! 
rmomber'd dainties spread our board. 
IV pioms aflsnme their^ glossy blue, 
4«i cheek? of oectarinca glow for you ; 
Caches their lovely blush betray, 
lad spricots their gold display; 
Wk^ Ibr yoor beverage, when yon dine, 
TVeie streams the tiectar of the vine. 

'^ Be nut my dying words forgot; 
iJrput, contented with your lot ; 
kf^rem eompbusts when they begin, 
I-natitiide^s a crying sin. 
tad hdd H for a truth, that we, 
kv quite as Uest as snails should be.'* 

Yhe pBdeaer hears with great surprise 
Tki* mge diaeourse , and thus he Cries — 
" Oh ! what a thankless wretch am I^ 
Who paas ten thousand favours by 1 
1 b£sne, whene'er the linnet sings, 
Mf want of song, or want of wings. 
The frrrring hawk, with towering flight, 
knsds ne of deficient nght. 
ind when the generous steed I view, 
k sat hssftreogth my envy too ? 
I tes at biids and beasts repine, 
lad wah tteir vario«s talents mine. 
Vssl as I am, who cannot see 
kmssB m BBord than all to me 



«« My landlord hoasts a huge CBtstB, 
Rides in his coach, and eats in plate. 
What I shall these lures bewitch my eye f 
Shall they extort the mormnrmg sigh^ 
Say, he enjoys superior wealth^^ 
Is«iot my better portion, health } 
Before the Sun has gilt the skies. 
Returning labour bids me rise | 
Obedient to the hunter^ bom. 
He quits his conch at early monu 
By want compeli'd, | dig the soi). 
His is a voluntary toil. 
I For truth it is, since Adam*s foil. 
His sons must Ikbour, one and all. 
No man's exempted by his purse. 
Kings are included in the curse. 
Won'd monarchs relish what they eat I 
'Tis toil that makes the manchet sweet; 
Nature enacts, before they're fod. 
That prince aod' peasant earn their bread. 

** Hence wisdom and experience 8hoW|^ 
That bliss in equal currents flow ; 
That happiness is still the same, 
How'er ingredients change their nama. 
Nor doth this theme our search deiyg 
lis level to the human eye. 
Distinctions, hitrodnc'd by men. 
Bewilder, and obscure our ken. 
I 'II store these lessons hi my hear^ 
And cheerful act my proper part. 
If sorrows rise, as sorrows will, 
I '11 stand resigned to every ill ; 
Convinced, that wisely every pack 
Is suited to the bearer's badL'* 



FAELB YI. 



Thuthe complaints qf mankind, agahutdieirtiv^ 
ral statitfn* a^d pnmncci in lift, are qften fiwo^ 
ioui, and aiwQ)fS unwarrantable. 

TBB VAailBa AVO TBS B0BSB. 

" Tis a vain world, and all things show it^ 
I thought so once, hot now I know it »." 
Ah I Oat ; is thy poetic page 
The child of disanpointed age > 
TnXY not of threescore years and ten. 
For what avails our knowledge then ?' 

But grant, that this experiencVl truth 
Were ascertain'd in early youth ; 
Reader, what benefit would flow ? 
I vow, I Hn at a loss to know. 
The world alarms the human breast. 
Because in sava^ colours drest^ 
Tis treated wit^ invective style. 
And stands impeach'd of fraud and guile^ 
All in this heavy charge agreo— 
But who's in fault — ^the world, or we I 
The question 's serious, short, and clear. 
The answer claims our patient ear. 
Yet if this office you decline— 
With all my heart— the task be mine. 
I "m certain, if I do my best. 
Your candour will excuse the rest *" 

A former, with a pensive brow. 
One mom aocoihpany'd bis plough. 

s Oay's q^Uplu . 



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14 



COTTON'S POEMS. 



The larks their cheeif al matins wmg, 
The woods with answering music rung; 
The Sun displayed his golden ray. 
And nature haii'd the rising day. 
Bat still the peasant all the while 
Refns'd to join the general smile. 
He, like his fathers long before^ 
Kesembled much the Jews of yors , 
Whose murmurs impious, weak, and vaiiiy 
Nor quails nor manna could restrain. 

Did accidental dearth prevail ? 
How prone to tell his piteous tale I 
Pregnant with joys did plenty rise ? 
How prone to blame indulgent skies ! 
Thus ever ready to complain. 
For plenty sinks the price of grain. 

At length he spake :— " Ye powers divine, 
Was ever lot so hard as mine ? 
From infant life an arrant slave. 
Close to the confines of the grave. 
Have not I followed my employ 
Near threescore winters, man and boy ' 

But since I caird this &rm my own. 
What scenes of sorrow have I known ! 
Alas ! if all the truth were told, 
Hath not the rot impaired my fold ? 
Hath not the measles seized my swine } 
Hath not the murrain slain my kine ? 
Or say that horses be my theme. 
Hath not the staggers thinn*d my team? 
Have not a thousand ills beside 
Deprived my stable of its pride } 

** When I survey my lands around. 
What thorns and thistles spread my ground i 
Both not the grain my hopes beguile. 
And mildews mock the thresher's toil ? 
However poor the harvests post. 
What so deficient as the last ! 
But tho* nor blasts, nor mildews rise. 
My turnips are destroyed by flies ; 
My sheep are pin'd to such degree. 
That not a botcher comes to me. 

" Seasons are chang'd from what they were. 
And hence too foul, or bonce too fair. 
Now scorching heat and drought annoy. 
And now returning showers destroy. 
Thus have I pass'd my better years 
'Midst disappointments, cares, and tearik 
And now, when I compute my gains, 
What have I reap'd for all my pains } 

*' Oh ! had I known in manhood's prim^ 
These slow convictions wrought by time j 
Would I have brav'd the various woes ' 
Of summer suns, and winter snows ? 
Would 1 have tempted every sky. 
So wet, io windy, or so dry 5 
With all the elements at strife ? 
Ah • iKH^l then bad plann'd a life. 
Where wealth attends the middle stage. 
And rest and comfort wait on age. 
Where rot and murrain ne'er commence. 
Nor pastures bum at my expense ; 
Nor ii^ur'd cows their wants bewail. 
Nor dairies mourn the roilkicSs pail j 
Nor bams lament the blasted grain. 
Nor cattle curse the barren plain. " 
Dun hobbled by his master's side^ 
^^ thiw the iober brute reply'd:— «^ 



" Look thro' your team, and where 's the steed 
Who dafes dispute with me bis breed ? 
Few horses trace their lineage higher, 
Godulphin's Arab was my sire ; 
My dam was sprung from Panton's stud^ 
My granflam boasted Childers' blood. 
But ah ! 'it now avails me not «* 

By what illustrious chief begot ! 
Spavins pay no regard to birth. 
And failing vision sinks my worth. 
The squire, when he disgusted grew, 
Tnlfcsferr'd his property to you. 
And since poor Dun * became your own. 
What scenes of sorrow have I known ! ' 
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 loads of dung ? 
W'hen the shorn meadows claim your care. 
And fragrant cocks perfume the air; ' 

When Ceres' ripen'd fruits abound. 
And Plenty waves her sheaves around ; 
True to my collar, home I bear 
The treasures of the fruitful year. 
And tho' this drudgery be mine. 
You never heard me once repine. 

" Yet what rewards have crown'd my dajrst. 
I *m gn\6g*6 the poor reward of praise. 
For oats small gratitude I owe. 
Beans were untaste<l joys, you know. 
And n<»w I 'm hast'ning 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 see 
No horse was ever us*d like me. 

" But now 1 eat my meals with pain« 
Averse to raastioate the grain. 
Hence yon direct, at night and mom. 
That chaff accompany my corn ; 
For husks, altho' my teeth be few. 
Force my reluctant jaws to chew. 
What then ? of life shall I complain. 
And call it fleeting, false, and vain ? 
Against the world shall I inveigh. 
Because my grinders now decay > 

** Yau think it were tlje wiser plan. 
Had I consorted ne*er with man ; 
Had I my liberty maintain'd, 
Or liberty by flight regain'd. 
And rang'd o'er distant hills and dales 
With the wild foresters of Wales. 

" Grant I succeeded to my mind- 
Is happiness to hills confin'd ? 
Don't Famine oft erect her throne 
Upon the nigged mountain's stone ? 
And don't the lower pastures fail. 
When snows descending choke the Tale } 
Or who so hardy to declare 
Disease and death ne'er enter there ? 

" Do pains or sickness here invade I 
Man tenders me his cheerful aid. 
For who beholds his hungry beast, 
But grants him some^supply at least } 
Interest shall prompt him to pursue 
What inclination would not do. 

Say, had I been the desert*s foal. 
Thro' life estranged to man's ootttrot ^ 



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TALES. 



W 



WbiiaiTiea liad 1 done on Etitliy 

<k vkD eoold pnAi }gy my birth > 

JIt hmtk had Be*er smtaio'd thy weight, 

My cfaeA ne'er known thy «aggon*s freight | 

Ait now my aevernl poweis combine 

To mncr Natnre's ends and thine. 

I *m oMfol thus in every view— 

Ok ! ooold 1 say the mme of you ! 

" Sapffior crib had ensn'd, 
Tih presdeoce had I been enda*d« 
I9i) tho^ at distance seen, destroy, 
Oriieken ereiy present joy. 
Te icSsb every new delight, 
Vben futore griefr elude oiir sight 
T. bfindnem then what thanks are duel 
fc Bikes each single comfort twtK 
Ihe eoity mknown to pain and toil» 
Antiapafeato monow's smile. 
Tbb iamb enjoys the present hour, 
A itcaqfer to ihe batcher's power. 

" Year's is a wihi Utopian scheme, 
Aboy woold blush to own yoar dream. 
Be ymr iwufcaak m what.it will, 
Ks piovinoe is exempt fiom ill. 
Qnte from tbe cottage to the throne, 
Sblions have soirows of their own. 
Wby shoaM a peasant then explore 
What looser hesidsne'erfoaad before? 
Go^ pieadk my doctrine to your son, 
Br jnaf*B, the lad would be undone. 
Bet whether he regards or not, 
'^sm lectnre wouki be soon forgot 
TW hopes •vfaich gnll'd the parentis breatit, 
Eie loag will nsake his son their jest 
1W now these cobweb cheats you sp«i.m, 
\'« every man 's a dope in turn. 
tad wisely so osdain'd, indeed, 
T^ate'er pbilosopbers may plead). 
£« life would stagnate at its source, 
lad atan, aod horse decline the course. 

" Thea bid yoong Ralpho never mind i^ 
lot tike the world as he shall find it" 



TALE& 



THB LAMB AND THE PIG^ 

CsnriT tiie nwrafist, yon '11 find 
Thst edaca t km forms the mind. 
1a fd a t a tkm ne'er sopply'd 
Tte rwfiag DHtoie hath deny'd. 
Wjm H the following page pursue 
Jiy tye AttJi prove this doctrine true. 
Shee in tbe Mose all brutes belonj^ 
The haab shall nsber hi my song ) 

J lleeoe adom'd her skiq^ 
i of native while withiik 
land love pomem'd her ioult 
» had cnwB'd the whole. 

It€ 

fAh ! ysnty, piecanovs flower I 
I«t ■■■deas oC the present age 
Tiemhla, when they pemae my page). 
k ^hned naoB a locUem day, 
.fidlofplay. 




R^ic'd a thjrmy bank to gain. 
But rtxMTt tbe triumphs, of her reign f 
The teacherons dopes her fate foretell. 
And soon the pretty trifler fell. 
Beneath, a dirty ditch iQipress'd 
Its mire upon her spotless vest 
What greater ill couM lamb betide. 
The butcher's baibarous knife beside ^ 

The shepherd, wounded with her cries* 
Straight to the bleating sufferer flies. 
The lambkin in his arms he took. 
And bore her to a neighbouring brook. 
The silver streams her wool refined. 
Her fleece in vii-gin whiteness shin'd. 

CleansM from pollution's every stain^ 
She join'd her fellows on tbe plain; 
And saw afar the stmkiug shore. 
But ne'er approach 'd those dangers more. 
Thekhepherd bJessM the kind event. 
And viewM his flock with sweet content 

To market next he shap'd his way, 
i\nd bought pipvisions for tbe day. 
But made, for winter's rich supply, 
A purchase from a former's sty. 
The children round their parent crowd^ 
And testify their mirth aloud. 
They saw the stranger with surprise. 
And all admir'd his little eyes. 
Familiar grown he shar'd their joys, 
Shar'd too the porridge with the boys. 
The females o'er his dress preside. 
They wash his face and scour his hide. 
But daily more a swine he grew. 
For all these housewives e'er could do. 

Hence let my youthful reader know, ^ 
That once a bog, and alwaj's so. 



DEATH. AND THE RAKBt 

A DUTCH TALB. 

Wniif pleasures court the human heart. 

Oh ! 'tis reluctant work to part 

Are we with griefe and pains oppress'd } 

Who sajTsthat Death's a welcome guestf 

Tho' sure to cure our eViis all> 

He*«» the last doctor we wou'd call. 

We think, if he arrives at mom, 

'TIS hard to die, as soon as bom. 

Orif the Conqueror invade, 

When life projects the evening sbad^ 

Do we not molitate deUy, 

And still request a longer stay ? 

We shift our homes, we change the air. 

And double, like the hunted hare. 

Thus be it mora, Qr night, or noon. 

Come when he will, he oomes too soon 1 

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

Vanbrain dy'd— his son, we 're told. 
Succeeded to his father's gold. 
Flush'd with bis wealth, the thoughtlett blfidqi 
Despis'd finigaUty^ and tpide^ 



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l6 



COTTOWS POEMS. 



Left Anuterdam with eager haste. 
Dress, and the Hag^e^ engroM^d his taste. 

Ere long his paasion changed its shape. 
He grew enamour'd with the grape. 
Ftequen^ed much a house of cheer, 
jQst like our fools of ibrtone here ; 
With sots and harlots fbod to join, 
And revel o'er his midnight wine. 

Once on a Cime the bowls had flow'd. 
Quite till the morning cock had crow*d. 
When Death, at every hour awake, 
£nter>d the room, and clatm'd the rake. 
The youth's compltinon spoke hit fSeais, 
Soft stole adown his cheek the ieitu 
At length the anguish dPhis breast 
With feult'ring tongue he thus eq^ress'd. 

" Thou king of terrours, hear my prayer. 
And condescend for once to spaie. 
Let me thy clemency engage, 
New to the world, and green in age. 
When life no pleasures can dispense, 
Or pleasures pall upon the sense ; 
When the eye fods departing sight. 
And roUs its orb in vain for light ; 
When mosicfs jo^ no longer cheer 
The sickHiiBg heart, or heavy ear ; 
Or when my aohhig limbs forbear. 
In sprightly balls to join the fair; 
I »U not repeat my suit to Death, 
But cheariully resign my breath." 

" Done," says the monarch — "be it so| 
Observe — ^yoii promise then to go !" 

What favour such protracted date 
From 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 his promise more J 

But were these terms by Death forgot } 
Ah 1 no— 4gain he seeks the sot % 

The wretch was in the tavern found, 
With a few gouty friends avound. 
Dropsy had seiz'd his legs and thighs, 
l^alsy his hands, and rheum bis eyes. 
When thiis the king — ** Intemperate elf. 
Thus, by debauch, to dupe yourself. 
What ! are my tenours spum'd by thee ! 
Thou fool! to trifle thus with me I 
You ask'd before for length of days. 
Only to riot various ways. 
What were thy pleas but then a sneer ? 
- I 'II now retort with jest severe. 

*' Read this smalV print," the monarch crie»— 
« Yott mock me, sir," the man replies. 
** I scarce could resd when in my prime. 
And now my sight >s impair'd hy time. 
Sure you consider not my age— 
1 can't discern a single page. 
And when my friends the bottle pass, 
I scarce can see to fill my glass." 

** Here take this not, obeerre it well — 
Tis ray command you crack the shell." 

" How can such orders be obey'd } 
My grinders, sir, are ^ite decay'd. 
My teeth can scarce divide my bread, 
Anid not a somid one in my head !" 

But Death, who more sarcastic grew» 
Disclos'd a viotin to view ; 



Then loud he eali'd, ''Old hoy, advance^ 
Stretch out your legs, and lead the danoa'^ 

The man rejoia'dr— " When age surnmndi. 
How can the ear distinguish sounds } 
Are not my limbs unwieldy grown ? 
Are not my feet as cold as stone ? 
Dear sir, take pity on my state— 
My legs can scarce support my weight !** 

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

" Is thus my lenity abus'd, 
And dare ]rou hope to stand ezcus'd ? 
You've spent your time, that peari of price ! 
To the detested ends of vice. 
Pnrchas'd your ^ort-liv*d pleasures dear. 
And seal'd your own destruOtion here. 
Inflam'd your reckoning too above. 
By midnight bowls, and lawless love. 
Warning, you know, I gave beUmes >, 
Now go, and answer for your crimes.^ 

«Oh! my good lord, repress the Uow-^ 
I am not yet prepar'd to ga 
And let it, sir, be further told. 
That not a neighbour thinks me did. 
My hairs are now but turning gr<ey, 
I am not sixty, sir, till May. 
Grant me the common date of men, 
I ask but threeso(^ years and ten." 

'* Dar'st thou, prevaricating knave, 
Insult the monareh of the grave } 
I claim thy solemn contract past — 
Wherefore this moment is thy lasL'^ 

Thus having s«d, he speeds his daft, 
And cleaves t^ hoary dotard's heart. 



ODES OF HORACE. 



TRB SECOND ODB OP THB SBCOMD BOOK* 
IMSCaiBBD TO T. V. BS«. 

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

Soon as this generous Roman saw 
His fother's sons proscribed by law. 
The knight discharg'd a parent's part. 
They shar'd his fortune and his heart. 
Hence stands consign^ a brother's tumut 
To immortality and fame. 

Wou'd you true empire esoertam ? 
Curb all immoderata lost ^ gain. 
This is the best ambition luiswn, 
A greater co«|Qest than a tlwBne. 
Fbr know, should avarice eanlrol. 
Farewell the triamphs of the seal. 

This is a dropsy of the miiid. 
Resembling the corporeal kind ; 
For who with this disease are cnrs^ 
The more they drink, the more they ttSiit 



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EPITAPHS. 



n 



» fceds their bloated Taa^ 
Aai pet ff ey *d, sigfaio^ langoor reigns. 

Tbtae, -who dificn from the crowd, 
ftgeelt the oovetoas and proad ; 
DaAuoB the vild ambitioiii breast, 
Aed aeorns to call a mooarch bleit ; 
Laboon to rescue truth and sense 
from specaotts aouods, and Tain pretence. 

Virtue to that disUngu'nh'd few 
Ghes royalty, and conquest too ; 
Tbs< vise BBinority, who own, 
Ud pay their tribute to her throne j 
VV> view with undesiring eyes, 
iai ipuni that wealth which misers prizei 



TBB TBVra OOB OV IHB SBCOMS BOOK. 

W0e*D yon, my friend, true bliss obtain } 

Scr picas the coast, nor tempt the main. 

la opeft aeas load tempests roar, 

Aad trcacfaeroos rocks begirt the shore. 

BsCiwd to all extremes is seen, 

la thoK who kyre the goAdea mean. 

T^ey nor in palaces njoicc, 

Sm m the aonlid cot thtir choice. 

The middle state of Ufie is best, 

Enhed staboos find no rest; 

ftorms shake th' aspiring pine, and tower, 

Ami Boofltains fed the thunder's power. 

The mumd prepar'd for each event, 

la every state maintains content. 

^«« hflpr» the liest, irhen storms prevail, 

Ner tnuts too far the prosperous gale. 

WaM time returning winters bring, 
IrniQg winter yields to spring. 
^«*d daitneas shroud the present skies, 
' brighter sons shall rise. 
I shoots his fiery darts, 
£>«eaK aisd death transfix our hearts; 
fe« oft the god withholds bis bow. 
Is pity to the race below. 
VucB dosads the angry Heavens deform, 
Sr Amo^, and brave the swelltng storm ; 
JuaaAst pffTOfep«>rity's full gales 
1st :..aBhle, and contract your sails. 



EPiTAPHSi 

my nm — thou need*rt not fear 
"" of one plaintive tear, 

friend — ^From mc thoo^lt 
icam 

M «e thas a Plato taughtr— tiie grand concern 
f iC onrtal* ! — Wrapt in pensivcthought, survey 
T\m little freehold <if unthinking clay, 
Aad know thy end ! 

T W ymiD^, ibo' gay, this scene of death explore, 
Aim i the yonog, the gay is now no more ! 




OH Bosorr clavxmng. m. b. 
<^ ' esoK, who kmm the childless parents sigh, 
The W^ediqg bosom, and the streaming eye; 
Vou XVIIt 



Who feel the womids a dying friend imparts, 
When the last pang divides two social hearts. 
Tliis weeping marble claims the generous tear. 
Here lie^ the friend, the son, and all that 's dear. 

He fell full-blossom'd in the pride of youth. 
The nobler pride of science, worth, and truth. 
Calm and serene he view'd bis mouldering clay. 
Nor fear*d to go, nor fondly wishM to stay. 
And when the king of terroors he descry'd, 
Kiss*d the stem mandate, bow*d his head, and dy*d. 



Oir COLOXEL CARDINCB, 

fFho toat slain in the BattU ai Predion Pantj 1745. 
WniLB fainter merit nsks the powers of verse, 
Our fhithful Ihie shall Gardiner's worth rehearse. 
l*he bleeding hero, and the martyr'd saint, 
TVansoends the poet's pen, the herald's paint. 
His the best path to fame that e'er wn« trod. 
And sarely his a glorious road to God. 



OM IfB. 8IBLCY, OF STUDIiAM. 

Hebr lies an honest man ! without pretence 
To more than prudence, and to common sense ; 
Who knew no vanity, disguise, nor art. 
Who scom'd all language foreign to the heart 
Diffusive as the light bis bounty spread, 
Cloth'd were the naked, and the huninry f^. 

<' These be his honours I" honours that disclainv 
The blazon'd scutcheon, and the herald's fame ! 
Honours 1 which boast defiance to the grave. 
Where, spite of Anstis, rots the garter'd knave. 



OV k LADT. VHO HAD LABOUBCD UNDER A CANCER. 

Stbamobr, these dear remains contained a mind 
As infants 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 rod. 
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. 
AN JSrOCATJON OF HAPPINESS. 

AFTER THE ORIENTAL MANNER OP SPEECH. 

1. Trt-l me, O thou fairest among virgins, where 

dost thou lay thy meek contented heud ? 

2. Dost thou d^'cll upon the mountiins; dost thou 

make thy couch in the vallics ? 

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

upon my fair-one ; yea, in the visions of the 
night have I pursued thee. 
C 



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1ft 



COTTOira POEMS. 



y When 1 a«ok«» nymadkatioD wts apon Uiee, 
and the day waa spent in iearch aitei' thy em- 
bracee. 

5. W'liy du6t thou flee from me, as the tender hUid» 

or the yeung roe upon the bills } 

6. Without thy presence in vain blushe« the rose, in 

vain glows the ruby, the cinnamoo breatbeth 
it« fragraoce in vain. 

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

J>'banou ? shall I perfume it with all the spices 
of Arabia? Wilt thou be tempted with Sabean 
odours, with myrrh, frankincense, and aloes? 

8. Doth my fair-one delight in palacet. — doth she 

gladden the hearts of kings ? The oalaces are 
noi a meet residence for my beloved — the 
princes of tlie Earth are not £avoured with the 
smiles of her countenance. 

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

among the cottages, she teiideth the sheep upon 
the mountains, and lieth down amidst the flocks. 
The lilies of the field are ber couch, and the 
Heavens her canopy. 

10. Her words are smoother than oil, more powerful 
than wine ;'her voice is as the voice of tlie 
turtle-dove. 

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



T!ME, 

Time and chance happeneth to them alL 
Kcclcsiast ch. ix. ver. 



11. 



RsADEa, if ibnd of wonder and surprise, 
Behold in me ten thousand wonders rise. 
Should I appear quite pardal to my cause, 
Shout my own praise, and vindicate applause ; 
Do not ari-aign my modesty or sense. 
Nor deem my character a vain pretence. 

Know then I boast an origin and date 
Coeval with the Sun — without a mate 
An offspring I beget in number more 
Then all the crowded sands which fpnn the shore. 
That instant they are born, my precious breed 
Ah me ! expire— yet my departed seed 
Enter like spectres, with commissioq'd power. 
The secret chamber at the midnight hour; 
Pervade alike the palace, and the shed, 
I'be statesman's clu&ct, 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 seqients, or like scorpions sting. 

Being and birth 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 fix their merit and their claim, 
1 judge their works to darkness or to fame. 

I am a monai*ch, whose vrctorious hands 
No craft eludes, no regal power withstands. 
My annals prove such mighty conquests won. 
As shame the puny feats of Philip*s^son. 
But tbo* a king, I seldom sway alone. 
The goddess Fortune often shares my throne. 
The human eye detects our blended rule, 
Here we exalt a knave, and there a fooL 



Ask yon what poiren our aofweign lawi abey ? 
Creation is our empire— we convey 
Sceptres and crowns at will — ^as we ordain. 
Kings abdicate their thrones, and peasants reign. 

Lovers to us address the fervent prayer; 
TfS ours to soften or subdue the (airi 
We now like angels shiile, and now destroy. 
Now bring, or blast, the long eiqpected joy. 
At our fair shrine ambitious churchmen bow. 
And crave the mitre to adorn the brow. 
Gu to the inns of court^-tbe learned drudge 
Implores our fi iendship 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, 
1'hus o'er your nat^ planets we preside. 
Kingdoms and kings are ours — ^to us they fall. 
We carvH 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. 
Abjure my colleague, and depend on me. 
Hither she sees not, or with partial eyes, 
Kither 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 fail their hopes, who use me well. 
Yet tho* in roe unnumbered treasures shiDe, 
Superior to the rich Peruvian mine ! 
Th;»* men to my indulgence hourly owe 
llie choicest of their comforts here below : 
(For men's best tenure, as the world a|pree, 
Is all XL perquisite <lerivM from me) 
Still man's my foe ! ungrateful man, I say, 
Who meditates my murder every day. 
What various scenes of death do men prepare f 
And what assassinations plot the fair ! 
But know assuredly/ who treat me ill, 
Who mean to rob me, or who mean to kill ; 
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 estate I 

While they who with superior forethought blest. 
Store all my lessons in their faithful breast; 
(For Where's the prelate, who can preach like me, 
With equal reasoning, and persuasiv'e 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 loiier'd in the race. 
Chide their slow footsteps, and improve then- pace; 
Yes, these are Wisdom's som, and when they die. 
Their virtues shall exalt them to the sky. 



AN ENIGMA: 

IMSCaUfiD TO MISS ff» 

Clob, I boast celestial date. 

Ere time began to roll ; 
So wide my power, my soeptie fpum 

Tlie limiu of the pole. 



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THE FIRESIDE^ 



19 



I firaoi tke aiyvlio womb oTnSglit, 

Tbe Almigfaty calPd the Earth; 
1 mUM npoa the m&Bt world. 

And gracM the woodnnM birth. 
TlttO> the TBSt realms of boandless space^ 

I traTene ancontroird ; 
lad rtarry orba of jMTwdest bUze 

hMcribe my name io gold. 

Tbcte *a not a nonarcb in the north 

Bat bends the suppliant knee ; 
The haughty sultan vaves his power, 

And owns superior me. 
Both by the savage and the samt 

If y empire stands contest ; 
1 thaw the ice on Greenland's coait» 

And fin the Scythian'^ brea st 
To me the gay aerial tribes 

Their glitteriog plumage owe ; 
With all the Tariegated pride 

That decks the featherM beau. 



The meanest reptiles of tbe land 

My bounty too partake; 
1 paint the insect's trembling wi^;^ 

And gild the crested snake. 
Survey tbe naUons of the deep, 

You'll there my power behold; 
Jfy pencil drew the pearly scale. 

And fin bedropt with gold. 

I give the virgin*s lip to glow, 

I claim the crimson dye ; 
Jfiae is the rose which sprmds the ehe^ 

And mine the brilliant eye. 
then speak, my fair ; for surely thou 

My name canst beat descry; 
Vho gave to thee with lavish hands 

What tfaoQsands I deny. 



TBE FIRESIBE. 

DuM One, while the busy crowd. 
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud. 

In lolly's mase advance ; 
Tho* singularity and pride 
Be eali'd oar choice, we'll step aside. 

Nor join the gkUy dance. 
From the gay world we'll oft retire 
To oar own lamily and fire. 

Where kwe our hours empl<^ ; 
Kb noisy neigbboar enters here. 
Be irtermeddling stmnger near. 

To spoil our heartfelt joys.. 
Bsolid happinem we prise, 
Within oar braaat this jewel lies. 

And they aie fools who roam ; 
The world hath nothing to bestow, 
ftom oar «wa selvm oar bliss must Aow^ 

And that dear hut our home, 
or nst WW NonVs dcwe beroft, 
Wheo with hnpatieot whig she left 

that safe retreat, the ark; 
Gitiug her vain eocorsionB oVr, 
The dioqffo iuted bird once moro 

EsplsB^ the sacred barfc. 
IW iMia spurn Hypaen's geode powers. 
We, who improire his goU^ houn. 



By sweet experience kcow. 
That marriage, rightly uoderstood. 
Gives to the tender and the good, 

A paradise below. 

Our babes shall richest comforts bring ; 
If totor'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 joy our youth, support our agfl^ 

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

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

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

And bless our bumble lot 
Onr portion is not large, indeed. 
But then how little do we need. 

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

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

Nor aim beyond our power ; 
For, if our stock be very small, 
Tis prudence to ei^joy it all. 

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

And pleas'd with favours given; 
Dear Cloe, this is wisdom's part. 
This is that incense of tbe heart. 

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

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

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

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

And mii^e with the dead. 
Whfle conscience, like a faithful friend. 
Shall thro' the gloomy vale attoid. 

And cheer our dying breath ; 
Shall, when all other comforts ceaae, 
like a kind angel whisper peace. 

And smooth the bed of death. 



TO SOME CHILDRJ^N 

LISTEMINO TO ▲ LAaK. 

See the laric prunes his active wings. 
Rises to Heaven, and soars, and smgs. 
His morning hymns, his mid-day lajrs^ 
Are one oontinued song of praise. 



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COTTON'S POEMS 



He speaks bis Maker all be can, 
And sbames tbe alent tongue of man. 

When the deobuing orb of light 
Reminds him of approaching night. 
His warbling vespers swell bis breast, 
And as be s'ngs he sinks to rcgt. 

Shall btrd<; rnstructive lessons leach. 
And we be deaf to what they preach ? 

No, ye dear nestlings of my heart, 
Go, act tbe wiser songster^s part. 
Spurn your warm couch at early dawn^ 
And with your God begin the room. 
To him your grateful tribute pay 
Thro' ever>' period of tbe day. 
To him your evening songs direct; 
His eye shall watcb, bis arm protect 
7I10' darkness reigns, he's with you still. 
Then sleep, ny babes, and fear no ilL 



TO A CHILD OF FIVE YEARS OLD. 

Fairest flower, all flowers excelling, 

Which in Milton's page we see ; 
Flowers of Eve's embower'd dwelling * 

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

Emulate thy damask cheek ; 
How the bud its sweets discloses-"--* 

Buds thy opening bloom bespeak. 
Lilies are by plain direction 

Emblems of a double kind ; 
£mblems of thy (air complexion. 

Emblems of tBy fairer mind. 

But, dear girl, both flowers and beauty 

Blossom, fade, and die away $ 
Then pursue good sense and duty, 

Evergret^ns ! which nc*ei* decay. 



OK LORD COBHAM'S GARDES. 

It puzzles much tbe sages' brain*. 

Where Eden stood of yore, 
Some place it in Arabia's plains. 

Some say it is no more. 
But Cobham can these tales confute, 

As all the curious know ; 
For he bath prov'd, beyond difspute. 

That Paradise is Stow. 



TO MORROfK 
P«reunt et imputantur. 

To MORBOW, didst thou say ! 

Methought I beard Horatio say, To morrow. 

Go to — I will not b*ar of it — ^T6 morrow I 

Tis a sharper, who stakes his penury 

Against thy plenty — who takes thy ready cash. 

And pays thee nought but wishes, h(ii>es,a»d promises, 

Tbe currency of idiots. Injurious banknipt, 

That gulls the easy creditor ! — To morrow ! 

* Alludmg to MiItoQ*s description of Evc*a buwer. 



It is a period nowhere to be fettod 
In all the hoary registers of time. 
Unless perchance in the fool's calendar. 
Wisdom disclaims tbe word, nor holds societjr 
With those who own it No, my Horatio, 
Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its fiather; 
Wrought of such stuff as dreams are ; and baFeleis 
As the fantastic visions of the evening. 

But soft, my friend — arrest the present moments j 
For be assur'd, they all are arrant tell-tales; 
And t ho' their flight be silent, and their path trackless 
As the wing'd couriers of the air, 
Tiiey post to Heaven, and there record thy folly. 
Because, tho' station'd on the important watch. 
Thou, like a sleeping, Pithless sentinel. 
Didst let them pass unnotic'd, uniraprov'd. 
And know, for that thou sluuiber'dst on the guard. 
Thou Shalt be made to answer at tlie bar 
For every fugitive ; and when thou thus 
Shalt stand impleaded at tbe high tribunal 
Of hood-wink t justice, who shall toll tby audit ? 

7*hen stay the present instant, dear Horatio ; 
Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings. 
Tis of more worth than kingdoms 1 far more precious 
Than all tbe crimson treasures of lifers fountain !-^ 
Oh ! let it not elude thy grasp, but, like 
The good old patriarch upon record, 
Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless Umc. 



AN ALLUSION 



TO HORACE, ODE XVI. BOOK 11. 

INSCRiacO TO H. W. KS4« 

Otinm divos rogat in patonti 
Prensns iEgaeo, siraul atra nubes 
Condidit lunam, neque certa fulgent 

Sidera nautis, 5c«. 

Sat, heavenly Quiet, propitious nymph of light. 
Why art thou thus conceaPd from human sight ? 
Tir'd of life's follies, &in I'd gain thy amos. 
Oh ! take me panting to thy peaceful charms $ 
Sooth my wild soul in thy soft fetters caught. 
And calm the suiges of tumultuous thought. 
Thee, goddess, thee all states of life implore. 
The merchant seeks thee on tbe foreign shore ; 
Thro' frozen zones and burning isles be flies. 
And tempts the various horrours of the skies* 
Nor frozen zones, nor burning isles control 
That thirst of gain, that fever of the soul. 
But mark the change — impending storms alErtgbt, 
Array'd in all tbe majesty of night — 
The raging winds, discharg'd their mystic caves, 
Itiar the dire signal to th' insulting waves. 
'I1ie foaming legions charge tbe ribs of oak. 
And the pale fiend presents at every stroke. 
To thee the unhappy wreteh in pate despair 
Bends the weak knee, and lifts the hand in prayer -, 
Views the sad cheat, and swears he'll ne*er again 
Range the ht)t clime, or trust the faithlesa main. 
Or own so mean a thought, that thou art bribed by 
gain. 
To thee the hamess'd chief devotes his breath. 
And braves tlie thousand avenues of death j 
Now red with fury seeks th' embattled pliuti. 
Wades floods of gore, and scales the hills of daiof 
Now on the fort with winged vengeance falls. 
And teai|>t« the sevenfold Uiunden of tha wmlU« 



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ALLUSION TO HORACE . . . EPITAPH. 



31 



Kstakm man ! the nymph of peace disdains 

The roar of caimoos, and the smoke of plains : 

With milder ineeiise let thy altars blaze. 

And in a aoftrr note attempt her praise. 

What various herOs attend the virgin's gate, 

Abject in wealth, and impotent in state ! 

A crovrd of offimngB on the altar lie, 

And idly strive to tempt her from the sky : 

Dut here the rich magnificence of kings 

Are specioas trifles all, and all unheeded things. 

Ko outward show celestial bosoms warms, 

The gaudy porple boasts- inglorious charms ; 

The gold here, oonscioas of its abject birth. 

Only presttmes to be superior earth. 

In vain the gem its sparkling tribute pays. 

And meanly tremulates in borrowed rays. 

0:i these the nymph with scornful smiles looks down, 

Nor e'er elects the favourite of a crown. 

Supmnely great, she views us from afar. 

Nor deigns to own a sultan or a czar. 

Did real happiness attend on state, 

Huw wonld I pant and labour to be great * 

To court I'd hasten with impetuous speed ; 

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

1 speak of sacred troths ; believe me, Hugh, 
The real wants of nature are hut few. 
TVior are the charms of gold-»a generous heart 
Would Mush to own a bhss, that these impart. 
'TV» he aUme the Muse dares happy call, 
Who with superior thought enjoys bis little all. 
Wfthia his lireast no frantic passions roll. 
Soli are the motions of the vhrtoous soul. 
The nigbt in silkoi slumbers glides away. 
And a sweet calm leads in the smiling day. 

What antic notions form the human mind I 
Penersely mad, and oUstinately blind. 
Lfe in Its large extent is scarce a span. 
Vet, wondrous frenzy ! great designs we plan, 
Aad shoot our thoughts beyond the date of man. 

Han/that vam creaUune 's but a wretched elf, 
Aad lives at constant enmity with self; 
irvesrs to a sonthern climate heMl repair, 
But who can change the mind by changing ait ? 
Italians plains may purify the blood, 
Aarl with a nobler purple paint the flood ; 
Bat can soft zephyrs aid th' ill-shapen thigh. 
Or (ona to beauty the distorted eye ? 
Can they with life inform the thoughtless clay ? 
Tbea a kind gale might waft my cares away. 
Wfaire lOves the Muse ? — ^'tis all a dream, my friend. 
Ail a wild thought — ^fbr Care, that ghastly fiend. 
That mighty prince of the infernal powers, 
Haonts the still watches of the midnight hours. 
la vain the man the night's protection sought. 
Cue stings like poisonous asps to fury wrought, 
And wakes the mind to all the pains of thought. 
Not the wing'd ship, that sweeps the level main. 
Not the young roe that bonnds along the plain. 
Are swift as Care— that monster leaves behuid 
The aerial coarser and the fleeter wind ; 
Hko* every clime performs a constant part. 
And sheaths its parofol daggers in the heart 

Ah ! why should man an idle game pursue. 
To future may-bes stretch the distant view ? 
May wttre exalted thoughts our hours employ. 
And wisely strive to taste the present joy. 
iifie 's an inconstant sea — the prudent ply 
W<h every oar to improve th' auspicious sky : 



But if black clouds the angry Heav'ns deform, 
A cheerful mind will sweeten every storm. 
Tho' fools cxp(H;t their joys to flow sincere, 
Yet none can boast ctenial sunshine here. 

The youthful chief, thai like a summer flower 
Shines a whole life in one precarious hour, 
Impatient of restraint demanrls the fieht. 
While painted triumphs swim bftfore his sight 
Forbear, brave youth, thy bald designs give u'cr. 
Ere the next mom shall dawn, thouMt be no more ; 
Invidious Death shall blast thy opening bl'jutn. 
Scarce blown, thou fad'st, scarce bom, thou meet'st a 
tomb. 

What tho', ray friend, the young are swept away« 
Untimely cropt in the proud blaze of day ; 
Yet when life's spring on purple winirs is flown^ 
And Uie brisk flood a noisome puddle grown ; 
When the dark eye shall roll its orb for light. 
And the roU'd orb confess impervious night; 
When once untun'd the ear's contorted cell. 
The silver cords unbrace, the sounding shell ; 
Thy sick'ning soul no more a joy shall find. 
Music no more shall slay thy lab'ring mind. 
The breathing canvas plows in vain for thee, 
(n vain it blooms a gay eternity, 
With thee the statue's iHiasts of life are o'er. 
And Caesar animates the brass no more. 
The flaming ruby, and the rich brocade. 
The sprightly ball, the mimic masquerade 
Now charm in vain — in vain the jovial god 
With blushing goblets plies the dormant clod. 

Then why thus fond to draw superfluous breath. 
When every gasp protracts a painful death? 
Age is a ghastly scene, cares, doubts, and fearJ, 
One dull rough roadof sighs, groans, pains, and tears. 

Let not ambitious views usurp thy soul. 
Ambition, firiend, ambition grasps the pole. 
I1ie lustfiil eye on wealth's bright strand you flx» 
And sigh for grandeur and a coach and six ; 
With golden stars you long to blend your fate. 
And with the garter'd lordling slide in state. 
An humbler theme my pensive hours employs, 
( Hear ye sweet Heavens, and speed the distant joys I 
Of these possess'd I »d 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 gain'd, love forms the last and best. 
And Heaven's bright master-piece shall crown th« 
rest 



AN EPITAPH 



UPON MR. THOMAS STRONG, 

WHO SIBD OK THB 26th OF DBCEMSBH, 1736. 

In action pmdent, and in word sincere, 
'In friendship faithful, and in honour clear ; 
"Thro' life's vam scenes the same in every part, 
A steady judgment, and an honest heart 
Thou vaunt'st no honours — all thy boast a mind • 
As infants guileless, and as angels kind. 

When ask'd to whom thcic lovely truths belong. 
Thy friends shall answer, weeping, ** Here lies 



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COTTON'S P0BIH8. 



EPITAPH 



UPON MISS GEE, 

WHO DIED OCTOBIR 25, 1736, ATAT. 28. 

Beauteous, nor knoivn to pride, to friends siocere, 
Miid to thy neighbour, to thyself severe j 
Unstain'd thy honour — aod thy wit was such. 
Knew no ejctremes, 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 i, 
View this once lovely form, nor grufige to weep.— 
O Death, all terrible \ how sure thy hour ! 
How wide thy conquests ! and how fell thy power ! 
"When youth, wit, virtue, plead for longer reign, 
When youth, when wit, when virtue plead in vain ; 
Stranger, then weep afresh — ^for know this clay 
Was once the good, the wi«e, the beautiful, the gay. 



REBVS. 

That awful name which oft inspires 
Impatient hopes, and fond desires. 
Can to another pain impart, 
And thrill with fear tlie shuddering heart 
This mystic word is often read 
O^ex the still chambers of the dead. 
Say, what contains the breathless day, 
When the fleet soul is wingM away ?~- 
Those marble monuments proclaim 
My little wily wanton's name. 

tx>iiis. 



REB US. 



Ths golden stem, with generous aJd, 
Supports and feeds the fruitful blade. 
The queen, who ruPd a thankless isle. 
And gladden'd thousands with her smile ; 
(When the well-manag'd pound of gold 
Did more, than now the sum thrice told ;) 
This stem of Ceres, and the fair 
Of Stuart's house, a name declare. 
Where goodness is with beauty join'd, 
Where queen and goddess both combin'd 
To form an emblem of the mitid. 



REBUS, 

Thk light-footed female that bonnds 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 bis fiur. 

Is the oamo of the nymph I panue. 

BOB. 



«' Mark the tall tn^» cried Oipid to the dMM, 
" That from its silver baric derives its name ; 
The stodious iosectt that, with wondroas pov'n. 
Extracts mysterious sweets from fragmnt dow'rs ; 
Proclaim the nymph to whom alllieaits submit. 
Whose sweetness solUns majesty and wit.*' 



SOME HASTY- BHtMCS 



ANOTHER. 



** Tell me the fkir, if such a fair there be," 
Said Venus to her son, " that rivals ra^'* 

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



ON SLEEP. 

MrsTBHiovs deity, impart 

From whence thou com'st, and what th6u art. 

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

But what I feel, I can't express. 

Thou bind'st my limbs, but canst nt restrain 

The busy workings of the brain. 

All nations of the air and land 
Ask the so|t blessing at thy hand. 
The reptiles of the frozen zone 
Are close attendants on thy throne^ 
Where painted basilisks enfold 
Their azure scales m rolls of gold. 

The slave, that's destinM to the oar, 
In one kind vision sWims to shore ; 
The 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 : 
While Lnbbin, and his healthy bride. 
Obtain what monarchs are denied. 

The garter'd statesman thon wooldst own. 
But rebel conscience spams tiiy throne ; 
Braves all tb<r poppies of the fields, 
And the fiun'd gum > that Turkey yields. 

White the good man, uppress'd with pam. 
Shall court thy smiles, noi'sue in vahi. 
Propitious thou'lt his prayer attend. 
And prove his guardian and his friend. 
Thy faithful hands shall make his bed, 
And thy soft arm support his head. 



ui REBUS. 

The name of the monarch that abandoned his throne 
Is the name of the foir, I prefer to his crown. ' 

iAMsa. 

jt aosG. 

Tell me, my Csslia, why to ooy^ 

Of men so much afraid; 
Celia, 'tis better far to die 

A mother than a maid. 
The rose, when post its damask has. 

Is alwajTS oot of fisvoar ; 
And when the plom hath lost its Uae, 

It loses too its flavoar. 

To vernal floWrs Che rolling yean 

Returning beanty bring ; 
Bnt fiuled once, thou'lt bloom no more. 

Nor know a second spring. 

1 Or rather inspisiated jaioe, opiuau 



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HYMN 



A SUNDAY HTMN, 

III IMRATIOV OF m. wA-m. 

Tmis k the day the Lord of life 

Ascended to the skies ; 
My tboaghtt, pursae the lofty theme^ 

And to the Heav*ns arise. 
Let no vain cares divert my mind 

From this celestial road ; 
Kor all the honours of the Earth 

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

Hae joys that are on high ; 
Nor meanly rest contented here. 

With worlds heneatb the sky. 
Heav*n is the bitth-pl^ce of the saints. 

To Heaven their souls ascend ; 
Tb' Almighty oarns his favourite race. 

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

My oomlbrt and defence, 
Wben the sick couch shall be my 1^ 

And death shall call me hence« 



AN ODE ON THE MESSIAH. 

WacH man bad disobey'd bis tbrd. 
Vindictive Joitice drew the svord ; 
" The rebel and his race shall die." 
He spake, and thanders burst the sky. 
Lo ! Jeans pard'ning grace displays, 
Kor thunder* roll, nor lightnings blaze, 
Jesna, the Savioor stands oonfot. 
In irnys of miklest glories dresL 
As roond ham press th* angelic crowd, 
Mercy and Troth be calls aloud ; 
The nniling cherubs winged to view, 
Their pinions sonnded as they flew. 
" Ye fevoorites of the throne, arise, 
Bear the strange tidings thro* the skies ; 
Say, man, th* apostate rebel, lives ; 
Say, Jenis bleeds, and Heaven forgives. 

*■ In pity to the fallen race, 
rU take their nature and their place ; 
Pll bleed, their pardon to procure, 
ril die, to make that pardon sure.'' 
Kow Jesus leaves bis blest abode, 
A Virgin's womb receives the God. 
Whesi the tenth Moon had wan'd on Earth, 
A Virgin's womb disclos'd the birth. 
New pniie emplojrs th' ethereal throng. 
Their golden harps repeat the song ; 
And angels waft th' immortal strahis 
To himible BeClU'em's bappy plains. 
While there the guardians of the sheep 
By night their faithful vigils keep, 
Cetertial notes their ears delight. 
And floods of glory dsown their sight 
When Oahriel tlins^ ** Exnh, ye smuis, 
Jesas, your own Mtf srf ah , veigns. 
Arwe, the royal babe beboM, 
Jcsm, by ancieiit bsurda Soretold. 



" To David's tortii <liroct yonr way, 
And shout, Salvation's bom to day ; 
There', in a manger's mean disguise, 
You 'II find the sovereign of the skies." 
What joy Salvation's sound imparts. 
You best can tell, yh 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*8 lifted rod. 

Nor blush to own a dying God. 

What ! 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, 

^^liere the rapt soul dissolves away 

In visions of eternal day. 



AN ODE ON THE NEfT YEAIL 

Lord of my life, inspire my song. 

To Thee my noblest powers belong ; 

Grant me thy favourite seraph's name. 

To sing the glories of thy name. 

My birth, my fortune, friends, and health. 

My knowledge too, superior wealth ! 

Lord of my life, to thee I owe ; 

Teach me to practise what I know. 

Ten thousand favours claim my song, 

4nd each demands an angel's tongue j 

Mercy sits smiling on the wings 

Of every moment as it springs. 

But oh ! with infinite surprise 

I see returoii^ years arise ; 

When unimprov'd the former More, 

Lord, wilt thou trust me still with more \ 

Thousands this period hop'd to see ! 
Deny'd to thousands, granted me ; 
Thousands ! that w»ep, and wish, and pray 
For those rich hours 1 thro^ away. 

The tribute of my heart receive, 
'Tis the poor all I have to give ; 
Should it prove faithless. Lord, I'd wrest 
The bleeding traitor from my breasL 



EPITAPH 

ON JOHN nVKB OF BanOWATW, 

WHO niKD iM THE TWsimr-pfaarr YSAa ot bis Aot, 

1747-8. 
Intbmt to bear, and bounteous to bestow^ 
A mind that melted at another's woe f 
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 I 
From pride of peerage, and from roliy free, 
Lifb's early mom, feir virtue ! gave to thee ; 
Forbad the tear to steal from sorrow's eye. 
Bade amdoos poverty forget to ngh 5 



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24 

Like Titus, knew the value of a day. 

And want went smiling from his gates awiy. 

The rest were honours borrowed from the threnc j 
These honours, Egbrton, were all thy own! 



COTTON'S POEMS. 



A FABLE. 

It seems, an owl, in days of yore. 
Had tum'd a thousand volumes o*er. 
His fame for literature extends, 
And strikes the ears of |>artial friends. 
They weighM the learning of the fowl. 
And thought him a prodigious owl I 
From such applause what could betide ? 
It only cocker'd him in pride. 

ExtulPd for sciences and arts, 
His bosom burn'd to show his parts j 
(No wonder that an owl of spirit, 
Mistook his vanity for merit.) 
He shows insatiate thirst of praise, 
Ambitious of the poet's bays. 
Perch'd on Parnassus all night long. 
He hoots a sonnet or a song $ 
And while the village hear his note. 
They curse the screaming whore-8on*8 throat. 

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

The owl expands his azure eyes, 
And secb a Non-con*8 study rise ; 
The walls were dcck»d with hallow'd bands 
Of wortliies, by th' engraver's hands; 
All champions for the good old cause ! 

Whose conscience interfered with laws; 

But yet no foes to king or people, 

Tho' mortal foes to church and steeple^ 

Baxter, with apostolic grace. 

Displayed his mebsotinto face ; 

While here and there some luckier saint 

Attained to dignity of paint, 

RangM in proportion to their size. 

The books by due gradations rise. 

Here the good fathers lodg'd their trust ; 

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 acquir'd. 

Which had in manuscript expir'd ; 

For manuscripts, of fleeting date. 

Seldom suivive their infant state. 

Tlie healthiest live not half their days. 

But die a thousand various ways ; 

Sometimes injuriously apply'd 

To purposes the Muse shail'hide. 

Or, should they meet no fate below. 

How oft tobacco proves their foe ! 

Or else some cook purloins a leaf 

To singe her fowl, or save her beef; 

But sermons *scape both fate and fiiv, 

By oongregational desire^ 



Display'd at huge apoD the tabl« 
Was Bunyan's much^dmir'd fable ; 
And as his Pilgrim sprawling lay, 
It chanc'd the owl advanc'd that way. 
The bird explores the pious dream. 
And plans a visionary scheme ; 
Determined, as he read the sage. 
To copy from the tinker's page. 

The thief now quits his leam'd abod«. 
And scales aloft the souty road ; 
Flies to Parnassus' top once more, 
Resolv'd to dream as well as snore ; 
And what he dreamt 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 ov^ls— my verse shall show it" 
And while he read his labour»d lays. 
His blue-ey'd brothers hooted praise. 
But now his female mate by turns 
With pity and with choler bums ; 
When thus her consort she address'd. 
And all her various thoughts expressed. 

" Why, prithee, husband, rant nO more^ 
Tis time to give these follies o'er. 
Be wise, and follow my advice — 

Go— rcatch your family some mice. 
Twere better to resume your trade. 

And spend your nights in ambuscade; 

What ! if you fetten by your schemes, 

And fare luxuriously in dreams ! 

While you ideal mice are carving, 

I and my family are starving. 

Reflect upon our nuptial hours. 

Where will you find a brood like our's ? 

Our oflspring might become a queen. 

For finer owlets ne'er were seen !" 
" 'Ods— hluel" the surly hob reply'd, 

" I'll amply for my heirs provide. 

Why, Madge ! when Colley Cibber diesi 

Thou'lt see thy mate a lauHate rise ; . 

For never poets held this place. 

Except descendants of our race.** 

" But soft"— the female sage rejoio'd— 

" Say you abjor'd the purring kind j 

And nobly left 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 earn us good provisions, 

And better this than scribbling visions. 

A due regard to me, or self, 

Wou'd always make you 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 fat and you be wise." 

"But, Madge, tho' I applaud your scheme. 

You'd wish my patients still to dream ! 

Waking they'd laugh at my vocation, 

Ordis:ipprove my education; 

And they detest your solemn hob. 

Or take me for professor L — ,^ 
Equipt with powder and with pill, 

He tekes his licence out to kill. \ 

Practis'd in all a doctor's airs. 

To BatfiOD's senate he repain. 



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RIDDLES. 



25 



Bf«»*d in hit flomng wig of knowledge^ 
To greet hb brethren of the college ; 
Takes up the papers of the day, 
PertaajM for wmnt of what to say ; 
Thro* eT*ry coltimn he paisues. 
Alike adTevtisementii and news ; 
O'er Ihts of canes with rapUire rans» 
Wnmght by Apollo's natural sons ; 
Admires the rich Hibernian stock 
(X doctors, Henry, Ward, and Rock. 
He dwells on each illustrious name. 
And sighs at onc^ ibr fees and fame. 
Kow, like the doctors of to day. 
Betains bis puffers too in pay. 
Aromid bis reputation dew. 
His pfactice with his credit grew. 
At length the court receives the sage, 
And lordlings in his cause engage. 
He dopes, beside plebeian fowls. 
The whole nobility of owls. 
Thus evVy where he gains renown, 
And fills bis purse, and thins the town. 



ADDRESSED 

TO A YOUNG LADY, 

WHOSE FATORITB BIRD 
WAS ALMOrr KILLLD BY A FALL FROM HBR FINGER. 

Aa Tincy, in a wanton mood. 
Upon his Lacy 's finger stood, 

Ambitious to be free ; 
With breast elate be eager tries, 
Bf flight to reach the distant skies, 

AoA gain his liberty, 
ih ! liM^less bird, what tho> caress'd, 
A^ fondled in the fair one's breast, 

Taogbt e»cn by her to sing; 
Know that to check thy temper wild, 
Aad make thy roanneis soft and mild, 

Tby mistress cut thy wing. 
The feather'd tribe, who cleave the air, 
Thar weights by equal plumage bear. 

And qnick escape our pow'r ; 
Kttt so with Tiney, dear delight, 
Hii sbofften'd wing repressed his flight. 

And threw hmi on the floor. 
Stonn^d with the fall, he seem'd to die, 
fcr quickly cios'd bis sparkling eye, 

Scarce heav'd his pretty breast j 
Atenned lor her favourite care, 
Locy aasames a pensive air. 

And is at heart distrest. 
The stoic soul, in gravest strain. 
May call these feelings light and vain. 

Which thus from fondness flaw ; 
Yet, if the herd arightly deems, 
Tm Mtnre's fount which feeds the streams 

That purest joys bestow. 
So, AoqM it be fair Lucy's &te, 
Whene'er she wills a change of state, 

To boafft a mother's name ; 
These tbelhigs then, thou cbarmhig maid, 
la brisfatest lines shall be display'd, 

Aai praise nnceniur'd claim. 



RIDDLES* 

From the dark caverns of the Earth 
Our ftimily 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 onr hesrt ; 
Gire to a slender shape its grace. 
And a bright polish to our fece. 
Thus education makes us mild. 
Pliant and ductile as a child. 

Survey the attire of man, you'll trace 
Our friendship for the human race. 
We love mankind, indeed we do, 
Our actions prove our speeches true. 
But what is wondrous strange to name, 
The aged female is our flame. 
When strength deca3rs, and optics £ul. 
And oold and penury prevail. 
Our labours spare the matron's sight. 
We ask but faint supplies of light 
Kindly our ancient girls regale. 
With food, witli fuel, and with ale. 
We, as associates to mankind. 
All act our various parts/assign'd. 
No useless hands obstruct eur scheme% 
We suit our numbers 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 us 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 onr name you'll tell. 
And vow you'll always use us well 
We'll grant your wish to change your life^ 
And make each feiit a happy wife. 

KNITTING MIXD&l. 



ANOTHER. 

To yon, fair maidens, I address, 

Sont to adorn your life ; 
And she who first my name can guess. 

Shall first be made a wife. 

From the dark womb of mother Earth, 

To mortals' aid I come ; 
But ere I 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 consume. 

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 ; 
Bat yet I never once could find 

That maids of honour use me* 



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COTTOira POEMS. 



The lily hand and brilliant eye» . 

May charm without my aid ; 
Beauty may strike the lover's eye. 

And love inspire the maid. 

But let the enchanting nymph be told. 

Unless I graee her life. 
She most have wondrous store of gold. 

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

With Christiana I go forth ; 
And while they worship to the east, 

I prostrate to the north. 
If you suspect hypocrisy, 

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

Can tremble and adhere. 



ANOTHER, 



I AM by nature soft as siJk, 
By nature too as white as milk ; 
I am a constant friend to man. 
And serve him every way I can. 
When dipt in wax, or pl«ng*d in oil, 
I make his winter evenmgs smile ; 
By India tangbt 1 spread his bed. 
Or deck his favourite Celiacs bead ; 
Her gayest garbs I oft compose. 
And ah ! sometimes, 1 wipe her nose. 



AXOTHEIL 



I AM a small Tolnine, and frequently boond 

In silk, sattin, silver, or gold ; 
My worth and my praises the females resoond. 

By females my tdenoe it totd. 
My leaves are all scarlet, my letters are steel. 

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

To the rieb, entertakiment 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 milliner's sight. 

Still I add to her credit and store. 
Tis true I am seldom regarded by men, 

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

Still vain is their boast if they ilout me. 

« VUDLB BOOK. 



PSjiLM XIU,. 

OfFBiTDED Majesty f how long 

Wilt thou conceal thy fece ? 
Bow long refuse my feintii^ aovl 

The succours of thy grace ? 
While iorrow wrings my Ueediag betrt, 

And black despondence reigns, 
Satan exults at my complaints. 

And triumphs o'er my pains. 
Let thy retunung spirit, Lord, 

Dispel the shades of ntgfat ; 
Smile on my poor deserted sool. 

My God, thy smiles are light 



While scoffers at thy sacred nord 

Deride the pangs I feel. 
Deem my religion insincere^ 

Or call it useless zeal. 
Yet will I ne'er repent my choice, 

I 'U ne'er withdraw my trust ; 
I know thee. Lord, a pow'rful fiieod. 

And kind, and wise, and jost 

To doubt thy goodness wou'd be base 

Ingratitude in me ; 
Past favours shall renew my hopes. 

And fix my faith in thee. 
Indulgent God i my willing tongue 

Thy praises shall prolong ; 
For oh f thy bounty fires my breast. 

And rapture swells my song. 



PSALM XUL 



WrrH fierce desire the banted bait 

Explores the cooling stream ; 
Mine is a passion stronger far. 

And mine a nobler theme. 
Yes, with superior fervoars, Lord, 

I thirst to see thy face ; 
My languid soul would fein approach 

The foentaius of thy grace. 
Oh ! the great plenty of thy boose. 

The rich refreshments there ! 
To live an exile from thy courts 

O'erwheims me with despair. 

In worship when T join'd thy samts. 

How sweetly pass'd my days ! 
Prayer my divine emplc^riiMBt thsD, 

Ajid all my pleasvre praise. 
But now I 'm lost to every joy. 

Because detain'd from thee ; 
Those golden periods ne'er retom. 

Or ne'er return to me. 
Yet, O my ssol, why tfans deprest. 

And whence this anxious feu} 
Let former fevours fix thy tnist. 

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 ; 
Tbo* o'er my head the billows roll, 

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

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

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

I 'II count his mercies o'er ; 
I Ml praise him for ten thousand pest» 

And humbly sue fbr more. 
Then, O n^ soul, why thus deprest. 

And whence this anxious fear } 
Let former fevours fix thy trust. 

And check the rising tear. 



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NIGHT PIECE. 



ff 



Here viO I iMk, aoa baad m J bopet, 

Not gMrmar at hit rod ; 
Be^ more tban all the vorld to me, 

Uj health, my life, my God I 



THE NIGHT PIECE. 

Haxi! the prophetic raTen hrings 

My lanmocis od his boding wings ; 

Tlie birds of night my iate foretel, 

The pre«ieBt death-watch loands my knell. 

A nlemn darkness spreads the tomb. 

But temmrs haunt the midnight gloom ; 

Methndn a lirowner horrouf ftills. 

And sileiit spectres sweep the walls. 

TdJ me, my soul, oh tell me why 
TbK faltering tongne, the broken sigh } 
Thy masly checks beclew*d with u>ars. 
Tell me, my soul, from whence these lears I 
I^Iko conscious guilt arrests the mind, 
Aveogiig furies rtalk behind, 
Aad sickly fiuicy intervenes, 
TodresstheT ' 



Jems to thee I'll fly for aid, 
Propitioas Saa, diapel the shade ; 
All the pale imi\y of fear 
Woold tanish were my SaTionr here. 
Xo more imagined spectres walk. 
No mure the doubtful echoes talk ; 
Soft zephyrs fan the neighbouring trees. 
And meditation mounts the breeze. 
How sweet these sacred bonis of rest, 
Pair portraits of the vii;tuouB breast, 
Where lawleas lust, and passions ruide, 
Aad fiolly never dare intrude ! 
Be other's choice the sparkling bowl. 
And mtrth, the poison of the soul ; 
Or midnight dance, and pvblic showsy 
Fareots ol sickiiess, pains, and woes. 

A nobler joy my thoughts design } 
Imtracttve solitade, be mine ; 
Be mine that silent calm repast, 
A cfaeaHul codscience to the last. 
That tree which bears immortal fruit. 
Without a canker at the root ; 
That friend which never £m1s the just, 
H1mi other friends desert their trust. 
Come then, my soal, be this thy guest. 
And leave to knaves and fools the vest. 
With this tboa ever shalt be gay, 
And night shall hnghtMi roto day. 
With this companion hi the shade, 
Sorely thou cuoldst not he dismayM ; 
But if thy Saviorir here were ibund, 
AH Paradise would bloom around. 
" Had I a firm and lasting iatth," 
To credit what the Almighty saith, 
1 eoold defy the midnight gloomi, 
Aad the paJe monarch of the tomb. 
Though tempests drive me from die shorty 
And tods dewend, sbmI biUows'roar ; 
Thoa^ death sppears in every form, 
M J little haik shooUl bmre the stofiB. 



Then if my Ood reqnir'd the lifo 
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 f 
Peace, rebel -thoughts — Pll not compl^m. 
My Father's smiles suspend my pain ; 
Smiles — that a thoi\3and Joys impart. 
And pour the balm that beals the smart 
Though Heaven afflicts, V\\ not rqiine. 
Each heart-felt comfort still is mine ; 
Comforts that 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 snnhine reigns. 



REV. JAMES HERVEY, 

ON HIS MBDrrATtOVS. 

By a Pkjfticum* 

To form the taste, and raise the noUer 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 sketched the whole creation out to view. 

Th> enameird bloom, and variegated flow*r. 
Whose crimson changes with the changmg hour ; 
The humble shrub, whose fragrance scents the morn. 
With buds disclosing to the eariy dawn ; 
The oaks that grace Britamda's mountains' side. 
And spicy Lebanon's superior pride > ? 
All loudly sovereign exeellence prodaim. 
And knimated worlds oonfess the same. 

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

His the grey winter's venerable guise. 
Its shrouded glories, and instructive skies s ; 
His the snow's plumes, that brood the sidfrnag 

blade; 
His the bright pendant that impearis the glade; 
The waving forest, or the whisp^g brake ; 
The surging billow, or the sleeping lake. 
The same who pours the beauties of the spring. 
Or mounts the whirlwhid^s desolating wing. 
The same who smiles in Nature's peaceful form, 
ftowns m the tempest, and directs the storm* 

Tis thine, bright teacher, to Improve the age ; 
lis thine, whose lifc^ a comment oo thy page. 
Thy hapfy page ! whose periods sweetly fiew. 
Whose figures chanii m» aad whose oatooft glow ; 
Where aitlsis piety pervades the whole. 
Refines the genias, liiid eaalta the ioaL 

^Tbeoedav. > Referruv ta tha Wiat«wp|eot. 



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fS 



COTTON'S POEMS. 



For let the witling argue all be can, 

It is religion ttiU that makes the man. 

Tis this, my ftiend, that streaks oar morning bright; 

Tis this that gilds the honours of the night 

When wealth forsakes us, and when friends are few ; 

When friends are fiuthless, or when foes pursoe; 

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

Disarms af!iiction,^or repels its dart ; 

Within the breast bids purest rapture rise ; 

Bids smiling conscience spread her cloudless skies. 

When the storm thickens, and the thunder rolls, 
When the Earth trembles to th' affrighted poles, 
The virtuous mind nor doubts nor fears assail ; 
For storms are zephyrs, or a gentler gale. 

And when disease obstructs the laboring breath ; 
When the heart sickens, and each pulse is death ; 
K'en then religion shall sustain the just, 
Grace their last moments, nor desert their dust. 

August 5, 1748. 



LTKES UNDER A SUK-DIAL 

IN THE CtfUKCB-TARD AT 

THORNBY. 

Mark well my shade, and seriously attend 
The silent lesson of a common friend— 
Since time and life speed hastily away. 
And neither can recal the former day, 
Improve each fleeting hour before 'tis past. 
And know, each fleeting hour may be thy last 



TO THE MEMOET OV 

TJffE REV. MR. SAMUEL CLARK, 

WHO DIED DECBMBEa THB 26tB, 1769, AGED 48. 

(DistenUng Minister at Birmngham,) 

IN all the intercourses of humanity 

lie was upright, prudent, and courteous. 

Compassionate, kind, and beneficent. 

In opinion 

Candid, diffident, and judicious. 

In argument 
Calm, strong, and persuasive. 
Under difficulties and sorrows 
Collected, firm,aiid resigned. 
In friendship 
Faithful, entertaining, and instructive. 
In his ministerial capacity. 
He poam»Bed every valuable and happy talent 
To rectify the judgment, and improve the heart 
He was learned without pride. 
And pious without ostentation j 
Zealous and indefatigable to advance the interest 
Of true religion. 
And the everlasting welfare of those who were 
entrusted 
To his pastoral care. 
What ! tho' such various worth is seldom known, 
No adulation rears this sacred stone. 
No partial love this genuine picture draws, 
No venal pencil prostitutes applause: 
Justice and truth in artless colours paint 
The man, the firiend, the prracher, and the saint 



FISIOFS 

IK 

VERSE, 

FOK 

THE ENTERTAINMENT AND INSTRUCTION 

OF 

YOUNGER MINDS. 
Yfaginibus puerisque caota ior# 



CONTAINING, 

EPISTLE TO THE EBADBR. Vlslon V. HAPTINBiTk 

Vision I. SLANDER. TI. FRIENDSHir. 

If. PLEASURB. VII. MARmiAOB. 

ITI. HEALTH. Vllt. LIPB. 

nr. coKTSMT. the last dbath. 



EPISTLE TO THE READER. 

Authors, you know, of greatest hme. 

Thro* modesty suppress their name; 

And wonid you wish me to reveal 

What these superior wits conceal ? 

Forego the search, my curious friend. 

And husband time to better end. 

All my ambition is, I own. 

To profit and to please unknown ; 

Like streams supply'd from springs bdoir, 

Wliich scatter blessings as they flow. 

Were you diseased, or pressed with pain. 
Straight you*d apply to Warwick-Lane > ; 
The thoughtful doctor feels your pnlae, 
(No matter whether Mead or Uulse) 
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 physicians sign their bill. 
Or when they cure, or when tliey kilK 

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 blame. 
Hiis dang*rous secret let me lude 
I'll tell you every thing beside. 
Not that it booU the worid a tittle, 
Wliether the author's big or little ; 
Or whether iair, or black, or brown ; 
No writer's hue concerns the town. 

I pass tha silent rural hour. 
No slave to wealthy no tool to pow'r. 
My mansion's warm, and very neat ; 
You'd say, a pretty snug retreat. 
My rooms no costly paintings grace. 
The humbler print supplies their place. 
Behind the house my garden lies. 
And opeus to the southern skies : 
The distant hills gay prospects yield. 
And plenty smiles in ev'ry fiekt 



> College of Physicians. 



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VISIONS IN VERSE. 



99 



The fottlher'd tribes adorn my ymid ; 
Alive mj J07, my treat wlieo dead. 
And their wah plnmes improve my bed. 

My cov remtrdi me all ihe can, 
(Bratet leave ingratitude to man ;) 
She, daily thankful to her lord, 
Cranrns vith nectareou sweets my board. 
Am I disea8*d ?-^the cure is known, 
Iler sweeter juices mend my own. 

I love my house, and seldom roam. 
Few visits please me more than bomeb 
1 pity that unhappy elf 
Who loves all company but self. 
By idle paasioos btrne away 
To op^« masquerade, or play ; 
Food of those hives where folly reigns^ 
And Britain's peers receive her chains $ 
Where the pert virgin slights a name. 
And sooms to redden into shame. 
But koow, my fiur, (to whom belong 
The poet and his aitless song) 
When fiemale cheeks-refuse to gkn% 
Fsrewell to virtue here below. 
Our sex is lost to every rule. 
Our sole distinction, knave or fool. 
Tm to your innocence we ron ; 
Save OS, ye fisir, or we're undone; 
M««»^«'"« your modesty and station. 
So women shall preserve the nation. 

]fbthen,'tissai<,indaysofold "^ 

EitccmM their girls more choice than gold < 
Too well a daughter's worth they knew. 
To make her cheap by public view : 
(Few, who their diamonds' value weigh, 
Cspose those diamonds ev'ry day) 
Then, if sir Plume drew near, and smiPd, 
The parent trembled for her child : 
Hie fint advance alarmM her breast; 
And fiuicy pictar'd all the rest 
Bot now no mother fears a foe, 
K6 daughter shudders ata beau. 

Pleasnra b all the reigning theme, 
Ov Doon-day thought, our midnight dream. 
la felly's chace our youths engage. 
And ihameIeK crowds of tott'ring age. 
IV die, the dance, th' intemp'rate bowl 
With various charms engross the soul. 
Are gold, fiune, health, the terms of vice ? 
The frantic tribes shall pay the price. 
Bat tho^ to ruin post they run, 
Tliey Ml think it hard to be undone. 

Do not artaign my want of taste. 
Or Sight to ken where joys are plac'd. 
They widely err, who think me blind, ' 
And I disclaim a stoic's mind. 
Like yours are my sensations quite ; 
I ooly strive to fi»l aright. 
My joys, like streams, glide gently by, 
IW small their channel, never dry ; 
fceep a still, even, fruitful wave, 
And bless the neighb*riog meads they lave. 

My fortune (for I'll mention^all. 
And more than you dare tell) is small ; 
Yet ev'ry friend partakes my store, 
And want goes smiling from my door, 
Will forty shjilincs warm the breaft 
Of worth or indurtry distrtse'd ? 



This sum I cheeifiilly impttt ; 
TSs foursoore pleasures to my heart. 
And you may make, by means like these, 
Five talents ten, whene'er yon please. 
Tis true, my little purse grows light; 
But then I sleep so sweet at night ! 
This grand specific will prevail, 
When all the doctor's opiates fail. 

You ask, what party I pursue ? 
Perhaps you mean, " Whose fool are yott ?^ 
The names of party I detest^ 
Badges of slavery at best ? 
Pve top much grace to play the knave^ 
And too much pride to turn a slave. 

I love my country from my soul. 
And grieve when knaves or fools control, 
I'm pleas'd, when vice 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 this little preface 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 think me wrongs 



SLANDER. 
VISION I. 

INSCKIBBD TO MISS ***♦. 

My lovely giri, I write for you ; 
And prey believe my visions true; 
They'll form your mind to every grace ; 
They'll add new beauties to your foce : 
And when old age impairs your prime. 
You'll triumph o'er the spoils of time. 

Childhood and youth engage my pen, 
Ti» labour lost to talk to men. 
Youth may, perhaps, reform, when wroa|^ 
Age will not listen to my song. 
He who at fifty is a fool. 
Is for too stubborn grown for school. 

What is that vice which still prevaib, 
When almost every passion foils ; 
Which with our very dawn begun, 
Nor ends, bot with our setting sun ; 
Which, like a noxious weed, can spoil 
ll)e foirest flow'rs, and choke the soil ? 
Tis Slander, — and, with shame I own. 
The vice of human kind alone. 

Be Slander then my leading dream, 
Tho' you 're a stranger to the theme ; 
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 let othehg shine. 
Intrinsic excellence is thine. 
The bird, in peacock's plumes who shone, 
Could plead no merit of her own : 
The silly theft betrey'd her pride. 
And spoke her poverty beside. 

Th' insidious sland'ring thief is worse 
Than the poor rogue who steals your pune. 



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COTTON'S POEMS. 



Say, he parloins your gKtt'ring ttore ; 

Who takes your goM, takes " trash"- 

Perhaps he pilfen-^to be fed— 

Ah I. guiltless wietch, who steals for bread 1 

But the dark villam, who shall aim 

To blast, my fair, thy spotless name. 

He'd steal a precious gem away, 

Steal what both Indies can't repay 1 

Here the strong pleas of want are rain. 

Or the more impious pleas of gain. 

No sinking family to save ! 

No gold to glutth' insatiate knave ! 

Improve the brat of Shakespeare's tongue^ 
Twas thus immortal Shakespeare ^ sung. 
And trust the bard's unerring rule. 
For nature was that poet's school. 

As I was nodding in my chair, 
1 saw a rueful wild appear : 
No verdure met my aching sight, 
But hemloc, and ould aixmite ; 
Two very pois'nooa plants, lis true. 
But not so bad as vice to you. 

The dreary prospect spread around ! 
Beep snow had whiten'd all the ground ! 
A black and barren mountain nigh, 
Expos'd to ev'ry friendless sky I 

Here foul-mouth'd Slander lay reclio'd, 

Her snaky tresses htss*d behind : 

" A bloated toad-stool rais'd her head. 

The plumes of ravens were her bed ^ :" 

She fed upon the viper's brood, 

And slak'd her impious thirst with blood. 
Hie 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 boast. 

No conquest grac'd Darius' son ^ ; 

By his own numbers half undone 1 

SqfOcess attended Slander's pow'r, 

She reapM fresh laurels ev'ry hotu'. 

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 tiie tyrant sounds to war. 

Her canker'd trump is beard a£ir. 

Pride, with a heart unknown to yield. 

Commands in chief, and guides the field. 

He stalks with vast gigantic stride. 

And scattet^ 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 treacfa'ry brooding in hu mien ; 

1 Othello. s Garth's Dispensary. 

3 Xerxes, khig of Persia, and son of Dariua. He 
invaded Greece with an army consisting of more 
than a million of men (some aay more than two 
millions) who, together with their cattle, perished in 
great measure through the inability of the countries 
to supply such a vast host with pravision. 

< Hesperia includes Italy as well as Sp^in, and 
the inhabitants of both are reaiaiU>to far their 
fOf esgeful dispQiition. 



The monster often ebang*d his gait. 
But march'd resolv'd and fix'd as fkte. 
Thus the fell kite, whom hunger stiiq^s. 
Now slowly moves his outstreteh'd wingi; 
Now swift as lightning hears away. 
And darts upon bis trembling prey. 

Envy commands a secret band. 
With sword and poison in her hand. 
Around her haggard eye-balls roll ; 
A thousand fiends possess her soul. 
The artful, unsuspected sprite 
With fatal aim attacks by night 
Her tToo|is advance with silent tread. 
And stab the hero in his bed ; 
Or shoot the wing'd malignant Vm, 
And female honours pine and die. 
So prowling wolves, when darkness rdgns. 
Intent on murder scour the plains ; 
.Approach the folds, wliere lambs repese, 
Who^ guileless breasts suspect no foes ; 
The savage gluts his fieroe desires. 
And bleating innocence expires. 

Slander smii'd horribly, to view 
How wide her daily conquests grew : 
Around the crowded levees wait. 
Like oriental slaves of state : 
Of either sex whole armies press'd, 
But chiefly of the fkir 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 heart 
The best, in some unguarded hour, 
Have bow'd the knee, and own'd her powV. 
Then let the poet not reveal 
'What candour wishes to conceal. 

If I beheld some faulty fair. 
Much worse delinquents crowded there : 
Prelates in sacred lawn I saw, 
Grave physic, and loquacious law ; 
Courtiers, like summer flies, abound ; 
And hungry poets swarm around. 
But now my partial story ends. 
And makes my females full amends. 

If Albion's isle such dreams fulfils, 
Tis Albion's isle which cares these ills; 
Fertile of every worth and grace, 
Which warm the heart, and flush the fiux. 

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 vii^'n nhe I 
With 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 wbite-rob'd Innocence was tbwe. 
The trees with golden finiits were crowM, 
And rising flow'rs adom'd the ground : 
Tlie Sun displayed each brighter ray. 
And shone in all the pride of day. 

When Slander stcken'd at the sight. 
And skulk'd away to shun the light 



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VISIONS IN TERSE. 



^1 



PLEASVRML 

VISION W. 

HtAB, ye fair mothers of our isle, 
Kor soom your poei^ homely style. 
What tho' my thoughts be quaiot or new, 
ru wamni that my doctrine's true : 
Or if my sentiments be old, 
Remember, truth b sterling gold. 

Yoo judge it of important weight. 
To keep 3rour rising offspring straight ; 
For this such anxious moments feel. 
And ask the friendly aids of steel : 
For this import the distant cane. 
Or slay the monarch of the main. 
And shall the soul be warp'd aside 
Sy paasioii, prejudice, and pride ? 
Deformity of heart I call 
The worst deformity of all. 
Your cares to body are confin*d^ 
Few fear obliquity of mind. 
Why not adorn the better part? 
This is a nobler theme for art. 
For what is form, or what is face, 
Bot the aoul's index, or its case ? 

Norn take a simile at hand. 
Compare the mental soil to land. 
Shall fields be tiird with annual cue. 
And minds lie Mow er'ry year ? 
O amoe the crop depends on yoo, 
Givp them the culture which is due : 
Hoe every weed, and dren the soil. 
So harvest shall repay your toil. 

If human minds resemble trees, • 
(As every momlist agrees) 
Prane all the stragglers df your vine, 
ThcD shall the purple clusters shitie. 
The ganTner knows, that fruitful Itfo 
I>raiaods his salutary koife : 
For er^ry wild luxuriant shoot, 
Or robe the bloom, or starves the fruit 

A satirist ^ in Roman times. 
When Rome, like Britain, groan'd with crimes, 
Anerts it for a sacred tmth. 
That pleasures are the bane of youth : 
That sorrows such pursuits attend. 
Or such pursuits in sorrows end : 
That all the wild advent'rer gains 
Are perils, penitenoe, and pains. 

Approve, ye fair, the Roman page. 
And bid your sons revere the sage ; 
In ctody spend their midnight oil. 
And string their nerves by manly toil. 
Thus shall they grow like Temple wine. 
Thus future Lockes and Newtons rise ; 
Or haidy chiefii to wield the lance, 
And save us from the chains of France. 
Yes, bid yoor sons betimes forego 
Tboae treach'roos paths where pleiuiures grow; 
Where the young mind is foUy^s slare. 
Where every virtue finds a grave. 

Let each bright character be nam'd. 
For wisdom or for %'alour fam'd : 
Are the dear youths to science prone ? 
Tell, how th* immortal Bacon shone ! 
Who, leaving meaner joys to kings, 
Soai'd high on contemplation's wings; 

1 Persius. 



Rang'dthe fair fields of Nature o^er. 
Where never mortal trod before : 
Bacon ! whose vast capacious plan 
Bespoke him angel more than man I 

Dues love of martial fame inspire } 
Cherish, ye fair, the gen'rousfire ; 
Teach them to spum ingtorious rest. 
And rouse the hero in their breast ; 
Paint Cressy'svanquish'd field anew. 
Their souls shall kindle at the view ; 
ResolvM to oopquer or to fall. 
When Liberty and Britain call. 
Thus shall they rule the crimson plain. 
Or hurl their thunders thro* the main ; 
Gain with their hlood, nor grudge the cost, 
What their degen'rate sires have lost : 
The laurel thus shall gmee their brow. 
As Churchiirs onoe, or Warren's now. 

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

Methought a spacious road I spy'd. 
And stately trees adom'd its side ; 
Frequented by a g^ddy 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 improvM the day, 
And pinks and roses strew'd our way. 

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

The hall we enter'd uncontrol'd. 
And saw the queeq enthron'd on gold ; 
Arabian sweets perfom'd the ground. 
And laughing Cupids flotter'd round ; 
A flowing vest adoni'd the fair. 
And Aow'ry chaplets wreathM her hair : 
Fraod taught the queen a thousand wiles^ 
A thousand soft insidious smiles ; 
Love taught her lisping tongue to speak^ 
And form'd the dimple in her cheek ; 
The lily and the damask fose. 
The tincture of her face 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; 
The old in sparing numbers press'd. 
But awkward devotees at best. 

" Now let us range at large," 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'roos play, 
And breath their fragrant lives away. 
Here rising myrtles form a shade. 
There roses blush, and scent the glade. 
The orange, with a vernal fiice. 
Wears ev*ry tkh autumnal grace ; 



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St 



COTTON'S POEMS. 



While the ycmig hlonomft here anfbld. 
There shines the fruit like pendant gold. 
Citrons their balmy sweets exhale. 
And triumph in the distant gale. 
Kow fountains, morm'ring to the song, 
Boll their translucent streams along. 
Thro* all the aromatic groves. 
The faithful turtles coo their loves. 
The lark ascending pours his notes. 
And linnets swell their rapturous throats. 

Pleasure, imperial fair 1 how gay 
Thy empire, and how wide thy sway ! 
Enchanting queen ! hom soft thy reign I 
How man, fond man I implores thy chain * 
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 reproach to sense ! 
The midnight dance, the mantling bowl. 
And all that dissipate the soul ; 
All that to ruin man combine. 
Yes, spacious harlot, all are thine ! 

Wlience sprung tb' accurKd lust of play. 
Which begKars thousands in a day ? 
Speak, sorceress, speak (for thou canst tell) 
Who calPd the treacherous card from Hell ? 
Now man profanes his reasoning pow'rs, 
Profones sweet friendship's sacred hours j 
Abandoned to inglorious ends. 
And faithless to himself and friends; 
A dupe to ev'ry artful knave, 
To ev'ry abject wish a slave ; 
But who against himself combines. 
Abets his enemy's designs. 
Wlien rapine meditates a blow. 
He Shares the guilt who aids the foe. 
Is man a thief who steals my pelf ? 
How great his theft, who robs himself ! 
Is man, who gulls his friend, a cheat ? 
How heinous then u self-deceit ! 
Is murder justly deem'd a crime ? 
How black his guilt, who mordeni time I 
Shou'd custom plead, as custom will, 
Grand precedents to palliate ill, 
Shall modes and forms avail with me, 
When reason disavows the plea ? 
Who games, is felon of his wealth. 
His time, bis liberty, his health. 
Virtue fbrsakes his sordid mind. 
And Honour scorns to stay behind. 
From man when these bright cherubs part. 
Ah ! what's the poor deserted heart,* 
A savage wild that shocks the sight, 
Or chi^, and impervious night ! 
Kach gen'rous principle destroyed. 
And demons crowd tbe 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. 
Heav'n , fond its favours to dispense. 
Gave him that weapon for deft;nce. 
That weapon, for his guard dcsign'd, 
You render'd fotal to mankind. 
He plann'd no death for thoughtless youth. 
You gave the venom to his tooth. 



Blush, tyrant, blush, for oh ! 'tis tnw 
That no fell serpent bites like you^ 

llie guests were order'd to depart| 
Reluctance sat on ev*ry heart : 
A porter show'd a different door, 
Not the fair portal known before ? 
The gates, methought were open'd wide. 
The crowds descended in a tide. 
But oh ! ye Heav'ns, what vast surprise 
Struck the advent'rers' frighted eyes 1 
A barren heath before us lay, 
And gath'ring clouds obscur'd the day { 
The darkness rose m smoky spires ; 
The lightiimgs flash'd their livid fires ^ 
T/>ud peals of thunder rent the air. 
While vengeance chill'd our hearts with fear. 

Five nithless tyrants sway'd the plain, 
And triumph'd 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 vipers feeding on his breast: 
Then Want, dejected, pale, and thin. 
With bones just starting thro' bis skin j 
A ghastly fiend ; — and close behind 
Disease, his aching head reclio'd 1 
His everlasting thirst confess'd 
llie fires, which mg'd within bis breast : 
Death clos'd the train ! the hideous form 
Smil'd unrelenting in the storm : 
\^lien straight a dolefiiV shriek was beard $ 
I 'woke — ^Tbe vision diaappear'd. 

Let not the unexperienc'd boy 
Deny that pleasures will destroy ; 
Or say that dreams arc vain and wild. 
Like foiry 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. 
The moral merits your esteem. 



HEALTH. 

VISION rii. 



Attend my visions, thoughtless youths, 

Fxe long youMl think them weighty trutlis ; 

Prudent it were to think so now ; 

Ere age has silver'd o'er your brow : 

For he, who at his early years 

Has sown in vice, shall reap in tears. 

If folly has possessed his prime. 

Disease shall gather strength in time; 

Poison shall rage in ev'ry vein, — 

Nor penitence dilute the stain : 

And when each hour shall urge his fate» 

Thought, like tbe doctor, comes too late. 

The sulject of my song is Health, 

A good superior far. to wealth. 

Can tbe young mind distnist its worth } 

Consult the moiiarchs of the Earth : 

IroperjAl czars, and sultaus, own 

No gem so bright, that decks their throne : 

Each for this pearl his crown would quit, 

And turn a rustic, or a cit. 

Mark, tho' the blessing 's lost with ( 
lis uot recovered when yuu please. 



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VISIOMS IN VERSE. 



33 



Siy Mt that graels shall avaR^ 
For oJutaiy i^rikds fiuL 
Say not, ^oHo*! sou auoceed. 
Apollo's ioo is £gypt»8 > reed. 
Hov fniHless the physidati's akill« 
Uov vain the penitential piU, 
The naihle moDOineiits proclaim, 
Ihe humbler turf ooofinns the same 1 
PrereotioD is the better cure. 
So nys the proverb, and *tis sure. 

Would you extend your narrow span, 
Aod make the most of Kfe you can j 
Would you, when med'cines camot flave. 
Descend with ease into the grave ; 
Calmly retire, likeeTeniag light, 
And cheerful bid the world good-mght ? 
let tempVance oooostantly preside 
Oar best physician, friend, and guide ! 
Would you to wisdom make pretence, 
Pnnd to he thoaght a man of sense ? 
Let teiDp'rance (always firiend to iaime> 
With steady hand direct your aim ; 
Or, like an archer in the dark, 
Your random shaft win miss the mark t 
For they who slight her golden mles, 
lo wisdom's Tolome stand for ibols. 

fiut morals, unadom'd by art, 
Are teklom known to reach the heart* 
I'll therefore strive to raise my theme 
Wtth all the scenery of dream. 

Soft were my slumbers, sweet my rest, 
Soch as the iofsnt's on the breast ; 
Mlien Fancy, ever on the wing, 
Aod fniitfol as the genial spring, 
Proeoted, in a -blaze of light, 
A new creation to my sight 

A niral lanlscape I descryd, 
Drcst in the rohes of summer pride ; 
The herds adom'd the sloping bills. 
Thai ditter'd with their tmkl'mg rills ; 
liei fw the fleecy mothers stray'd, 
And round their sportive lambkins play'd. 

Kigh to a nrurmuring brook I saw 
An homUe cottage thatch'd with straw ; 
Bebiod, a garden that supply 'd 
All tbiogs for use, and none for pride: 
Bfwrty prevailed thro* ev*fy part, 
£iit more of nature than of art 

" Hail, thou sweet, calm, nnenvied seat t" 
I ttkl, ami bless'd the fair retreat^ 
" Here would I pass my remnant daj's, 
Voknown-to ceo^mrs, or to praise; 
Forget the world, and be forgot. 
As Pope describes his vestal's lot." 

Wfail« thus I mos'd, a beauteous maid 
5tq)t frtjm a thicket's neigfab'ring shade ; 
Not Hampton's gallery can boast,' 
Nor HudaOQ paint so fair a toast : 
%e claimed the cottage for her own. 
To Health a cottage is a throne. 

The annals say (to prove her worth) 
The Graces solemiua'd her birth. 
Garlands of various flow'rs they wrought. 
The orchard's bloshtng pride they brought : 
Hence in her faee the lily speaks. 
And benoe the rose which paints her cheeks j 

ito8Kh«txrii},91. 



The cherry gave her lips to ^low. 
Her eyes were debtors to the sloe ; 
And, to compleat the lovely fair, 
Tib said, the chesnnt stain'd her hair* 
. The virgin was averse to courts 
But often seen in rural sports : 
When in her rosy vest the mom 
Walks o'er the dew-bespangled lawn. 
The nymph is first to form the rase, 
Or wind the horn, and lead the chaca. 

Sudden I heard a shouting train. 
Glad acclamations filFd the plain : 
Unbounded joy improv'd the scene, 
For Health was loud proclaim'd a queen. 
Two smiling cherubs grac'd her throne, 
(To modem courts, I fear, unknown ;) 
One was Uie 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 pow'r : 
Vice was a perfect stranger here : 
No knaves engrossed the royal ear : 
No fools obtain'd this monarch's grace ; 
Virtue dispos'd of ev'ry place. 

What sickly appetites are ours. 
Still varying with the varying hours ! 
Aad tho' from good to bad we range, 
" No matter," says the fool, " »tis change." 

Her subjects now express'd apace 
Dissatisfaction in their fooc : 
Some view the state with envy's eye, 
Some were displeas'd, they knew not why : 
When Faction, -ever boM and vain, 
With rigour taz*d their monarch's reign. 
Thus, should an angel from above. 
Fraught with benevolence and love. 
Descend to Earth, and here impart 
Important truths to mend. the heart ; 
Would not th' instractive guest dispensd 
With passion, appetite, and sense. 
We should his heav'nly lore despise. 
And send him to his former skies. 

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

The queen was first to take the field,. 
Arm'd with her helmet and her shield ; 
Tempered with such superior art. 
That both were proof to ev'ry dart. 
Two warlike chiefs approach'd the greaa , 
And wondrous fav'rites with the queen ; 
Both were of Amazonian race. 
Both high ju merit, and in place. 
Here, Resolution mareh'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. 
There Prudence shone, whose bosOm irrooghl 
With all the varioos pi ins of thought ; 

D 



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Twas hcr's to bid the troops engage, 
And teach the battle where to rage. 
And now the siren^s armies press. 
Their van was headed by Excess : 
The mighty wings that form'd the side. 
Commanded by that giant Pride : 
While Sickness, and her sisters Pain 
And Poverty, the centre gain : 
'Repentance, with a brow severe. 
And Death, were stationed in the rear. 

Health rangM her troops with matchlesa art. 
And acted the defensive part : 
Her army posted on a hill, 
Plainly bespoke superior skill : 
Hence were discover'd thro' the plaiOy 
The motions of the hostile train : 
While Prudence, to prevent surprise. 
Oft sally'd with her trusty spies ; 
Explored each ambuscade below. 
And reconnoitred well the foe. 
Afar when Luxury descry'd 
Inferior force by art supply'd. 
The siren spake — Let fraud prevail. 
Since all my numerous hosts must fail; 
Henceforth hostilities shall cease, 
I'll sand to Health and offer peace. ■ 
Straight she dispatched, with pow'rs coropleat, 

Pl<^sure, her minister, to treat. 

This wicked strumpet topp'd her part. 

And sow'd sedition in the heart ! 

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 race ; 

Look'd on the queen with melting eyes^ 

And snatch'd his. darling to the skies r 

Who still regards those wiser fSew, 

That dare her dictates to pursue. 

For where her stricter law prevails, 

Tho' passion prompts, or vice assails ; 

Long shall the cloudless skies behold. 

And their calm sun-set beam with gol^ 



CONTENT. 
VISION IV. 



Mav is deceived by outward show—* 
Tis a plain homespun truth, I know. 
The fraud prevails at ev'ry age. 
So says the school-boy and the sage. 
Yet still wc hug the dear deceit, 
And still exclaim against the cheat 
But whence this inconsistent part } 
Say, moralists, who know the hcaii : 
If you'll this labyrinth pursue, 
FII go before, and find the clue« 

I dreamt (twas on a birth*day night) 
■A sumptuous palace rose to sights 
The builder had, thro' ev'ry part, 
Observ'd the chastest rules of art ; 
Raphael and Titian had display'd 
Ail the full force of light and shade : 
Around the liveryM servants wait; 
An aged porter kept the gate. 



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

" This, sir, your property ?" I cry'd— 
" Master and mansion coincide : 
Where all, indeed, is truly great. 
And proves, that bliss may dwell with state. 
^^y> sir, indulge a stranger's claim. 
And grant the favour 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, 
('Tis virtue can alone impart 
The patent of a ducal heart : 
Unless this herald speaks him great. 
What shall avail the glare of state ?) 
Those secret charms are my delight. 
Which shine remote from public sight : 
Passions subduM, desires at rest — 
And hence his chaplain shares my breast 
" There was a 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, 'tis clear) 
I shou'd be welcome to the peer. 
Yes, welcomq to a man in pow'r; 
And so I was— for half an hoar. 
But he grew weary of his guest, 
And soon discarded me his breast ; 
Upbraided 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 
'Iliink me not partial to the great, 
I'm a sworn fbe to pride and state ; 
No monarchs share my kind embrace. 
There's scarce a monarch knows my face : 
Content shuns courts, and oft'ner dwells 
With modest worth in rural cells; 
There's no complaint, tho' brown the breed. 
Or the rude tuif 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, 1 seldom roam. 
Because I find my joys at home : 
For foreign visits then begin. 
When the man feels a void withm. 

" But tho* from towns and crowds I flf. 
No humorist, nor cynic, L 
Amidst sequester'd shades I prize 
The friendships of the good and wiie» 



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BU Tffttte idA ber sods attrnd, 

\:rtoe will tell thee. Tin a frieDd : 

TeU ttoe, l*iii faithful, constant, kind, « 

Aad meek, and lowly, and resign'd ; 

V.a say, there^i no distinction known 

Bctwjct her bonshold and my own." 

Arraoa. If these the friendships you purrae, 
V'jar fronds, I fiear, are very few. 
.V. 1 tUe company, yoa say, 
Vet had of home f^om day to day } 
V.m do yoa sbtin detiactioo't rod } 
I .SKibt your neighbours think you odd ! 

C'<»TTm^. 1 commune with myself at night, 
Aad ask my heart if all be right : 
IL '' right," replies my faithful breast, 
i s^lle, and close my eyes to rest 

^FTHoa. You seem regardless of the town : 
?ny, lir, liov stand yon with the g^n ? 

t.«3inx9rr. The clergy say they love me well^ 
Whether tbey do, they best can tell : 
r^ paint nae modest, friendly, vise, 
And always praise me to the skies ; 
f -t if coBvictioo's at the heart, 
^..T not a correspondent part ? r 

h^ AaXl the learned tongue prevail^ 
I: aaVms preach a different tale ? 
^Wrli seek my door or grace my walls, 
*rbni neillier dean nor prelate calls ? 

Wkh those my friendships most obtain, 
Tso prize their doty more than gain $ 
Suit iow the hours whene'er we meet, 
iai oooseioas rirtoe is our treat; 
l^kamiJess breasts n^envy know, 
l^i Unce we fear no secret foe ; 
<^ walks ambitioo ne'er attends, 

ai^eaee «e ask no powerful friends j 

Vfvisli the best to church and state, 

keave tbe steerage to the great ; 
Inks^ who rises, o'r who falls, 
J^ asver dream of vacant stalls ; 
XtA less, by pride or int'rest drawn, 
t^ hr tiie mitre, and th6 lawn. 

Ofeeerve the secrets of my art, 
r3 faadssnental truths impart : 
!'?Da11 my khid advice pursue, 
I ^ ^3k flsy hut, and dwell with yoa* 

Tie pasBons are a nurn'roos crowd, 
isperioos, posftire, and loud : 
C*<ft these lioeatioas son« of strife ; 
E£aoe chjciy rise the storms of life : 
I: taey wnm matinous, and rave, 
Tbey are thy mancrs, thou their slava. 

2erani tbe world with cautious eye, 
W rase yoar expectation hii^b. 
>c that tbe balanc'd scales be such, 
:« neither fear nor hope too much. 
f*M d aap po int rocot's not tbe thing, 
T« pnde and pass'ton point the ^ing. 
Lit H a sea where storms mui^ rise, 
Ta feOy tallR of cloudlet skies : 
He who enotracts his swelling sail, 
iSadn the fory of tiie gale. 

Be fdll, nor anxious thoughts employ, 
I^«r«t enbitteis present ,ioy : 
^ Gsd fcr all eveou depend ; 
Y « cannot want when (3od's your friend. 
V'ciih well your part, and do yoor best j 
Lim ta yoor Makier all Uie rtst. 



The hand which formed thee in the womb, 
Guides from tbe cradle to the tomb. 
Can the fond mother slight her boy ; 
Can she forget her prattling joy ? 
Say then, shall Sovereign 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 trouble;; intervene. 
That sorrows darken half the scene. 
True — and this conseqtience you see, 
The world was ne'er designM foMhee: 
You*re like a passenger below. 
That stays perha|i8 a n"ght or so; 
But still his native country lies 
Beyond the bound'ries of the skies. 

Of Heav'n ask virtue^ wisdom, health. 
But never let thv prayV be wealth. 
If food be thine,'(tho' little gold) 
And raiment to repel the cold ; 
Such as may nature*8 wants 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 t^is comfort brings, 
^s more than Heav'n bestows on kings. 

He spake — ^the airy spectre flies, 
And straight the sweet illusion dies. 
The vision, at the early dawn, 
Consig^'d me to the thoughtful mora ; 
To all the cares of waking clay. 
And mccnsistent dreams of day. 



HAPPINESS. 

VISION V. 

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

I saw this wondrous vision soon, > 
Long ere my sun had reach 'd its noon; 
Just when the rising beard began 
To grace my chin, and call me man. 

One night, when balmy slumbers shed 
Their peaceful poppies o'er my head. 
My fancy led me to explore 
A thousand scenes unknown before. 
I saw a plain extewled wide. 
And crowds pourM in fro'U evVy side : 
All seem*d to start a diil'rent game. 
Yet all dec! ir'd their views the same : 
The chace was Happiness, I found. 
But all, alas ! enchanted ground. 

Indeed 1 judg'd it wondrous strange. 
To see tbe giddy nambers range 



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Tbro* roads, which promis'd nought, at begt. 
But sorrow to the human breast 
Mcthought, if bliss was all their view, 
Why did they difTrcnt patlis purvue ? 
The waking: world has long agreed. 
That Bagshot*s not the roaid to Tweed : 
And he who Berwick scekt thro' Stains, 
Shall have his labour for bis pains. 

As Pamel ^ says, tny bosom wrought 
With tra\'ail of nncertain thought : 
And, as an angel heip'd the dean» 
My angel chose to intervene j 
The dress of each was much the same. 
And Virtue was my seraph's name. 
When thus the angel sileDce broke, 
(Her voice was musu: as she spoke.) 

" Attend, O man, nor leave my side. 
And safety shall thy footsteps guide; 
Such truths IMl teach, i$uch secrets show, 
As none but favoured mortals know." 

She said — and straight we marched along 
To join Ambition's active throng : 
Crowds urg*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 delusive light. 
And bubbles oiock'd the distant sight 

We saw a shining mountain rise. 
Whose tow' ring summit rcach'd the skies : 
The slopes were steep, and fom^M of glass. 
Painful ami hazardous to pass : 
Courtiers und statesmen led the way. 
The faith1c<^ paths tlieir steps betray : 
Tills moment seen aloft to soar, 
The next to fall and rise no more. 

'Twas here Ambition kept her court, 
A pliantom of gigantic port ; 
1'he fav'ritc that sustain'd lier throne, 
Was Falsehood, by her vissard known; 
Next stood Mistrust, with frequent sigh, 
Bisorder'd look, and squinting eye ; 
While meagre Envy claimed a place. 
And Jealousy with jaundiced face. 

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

« Mortal, by folly still beguil'd. 
Thon hast not yet outstripped the child ; 
Tbon, who bast twenty winters seen, 
(I hardly think thee past fifteen) 
To ask if Happiness can dwelt 
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, laughs at thrones; 
Prefers the shades and lowly seats. 
Whither fair Innocence retreats: 
So the coy lily of the vale, 
Shuns eminence, and loves the dale." 

I blush'd ; and now we cross'd the plain. 
To find the money -fcetlins: train ; 
Those silent, snug, c<iiniu«;reial hands, 
With busy Ijoks, and dirty hands. 

' The Hermit 



Amidst these thoughtful crouds the old 
Plac*d all their happineas in gold. 
And snrely, if (here's bliss below, 
These hoary heads the secret knonr. 

We journey'd with the plodding creir. 
When soon a temple rose to view : 
A gotbic pile, with moss oeergrown ; 
Strong were the walls, and built with stooe. 
Without a thousand mastifSs wait : 
A thousand bolts secure the gate. 
We sought admisstDti long in vain ; 
For here all faroun> sell for gain : 
1'he greedy porter yields to gold. 
His fee rcceivM, the gates unfold. 
Assc^nbled nations here we found. 
And vicw'd the cringing herds around. 
Who daily sacrific'd to Wealth* 
Their honour, conscienoe, peace, and health.. 
I saw no charms that could engage ; 
The god appear'd like sordid age. 
With hooked qose, and famish'd jaws. 
But serpents' eyes and harpies' claws : 
Behind stood Fear, that restless spiigbt, 
W^hich haunts the watches of the night i 
And Viper-Care, that stings so deep. 
Whose deadly venom murders sleep. 

We hasten now to Pleasure's bow'rs; 
Where the gay tribes sat crown'd with flow'ia : 
Here beauty every charm displayed, 
And love inflapa'd the yielding roaid : 
Delicious wine our taste employs. 
His crimson howl exalts our joys : 
I felt its gen'rou9 pbw*r, and thoogbt 
The pearl was found, that long I sought 
£>etermin'd here tp fix my home, 
I bless'd the qhange, nor wish'd to roam : 
The seraph di&^ppiov'd my stay, 
Spread her fair plumes, and wingM awafw 

Alas ! whene'er we talk of bliss. 
How prone is man to.iudge amiss 1 
See, a long train of ills ooospires 
To scourge our uncontrol'd desh«a. 

Like summer swamps diseases orowd* 

Each bears a crotch, or each a sbrosd : 

Fever ! that thirsty fiiry, oankC, 

With inextinguishable flame ; 

Consumption, $wom ally of Death ! 

Crept slowly on with panting breath ; 

Gout roar'd. and show'd his throbbii^ feet ; 

And Dropsy tuok the drunkard's seat: 

Stone brvuii^ht his tort'ring racks ; and i 

Sat Palny shaking in her chair I 
A* mangled youth» beneath a shade, 

A melancholy scene display'd : 
' His noseless face, and loathsome itaias, 

Pfoclaim'd the poison ia his veins.; 

He raisM his eyes, he smote his bieast, 
' He wept aloud,, and thus address'd : 
** Forbear the harlot's false embrace, 

Tho' Lewdness wear an angel's fiM^ 
^Be wise, by my experience taught, 

I die, alas ! for want of thought" 
As he, who travels Lybia's plains^ 

Where the fi.-^rce lion lawless reigns. 

Is seiz'd with fear and wild dismay. 

When the grim foe obstructs his way. 

^ly so!il was pierc d with equal firigbl. 

My tott'nug limbs opposed my flii^ti 



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I all^ <m Viitof , bat in irthi, 
Her abtenee qoiekea'd every pun : 
At length the slighted angel heard, 
The dor refulgent form appeared. 

** PresumptaoQS youth I'* she said, and frowned ; 
(My heart strings flutter'd at the tooiid} 
** Who tnras to me reluctant ears, 
Shall shed repeated floods of tears. 
These lirers shall for ever last, 
Tbeie's do refracting what is past : 
the think aTenging ills to shun ; 
Play a Ihlse card, and you're undone. 
** Of Pleasure's gilded baits beware, 
Nor tempt the siren's fotel snare : 
Forego this cnrs'd, detes>ted plare, 
Abhor the strumpet, and her race : 
Had you those softer paths pursued, 
PerditioD, stripling, had ensued : 
Yes, fly — yun stand upon its brink ; 
To motrov » too late to think. 

" Indeed unwelcome truths I tell, 
Bot mark my sacred lesson well : 
With me whoever tires at strife, 
Loses his bettci fiiend for life ; 
With me who lives in friendship's ties, 
PSnds all thafs sought for by the wise. 
FoOy exclauna, and well she may, 
BeeauK I take her mask away ; 
If once I brin^ her to the Sun^ 
The pamted bariot is undone. 
fiol prize, my child, oh ! prize my ftdeii 
And lc«ve deception to her fook. 

** Ambition deals in tinsel toys, 
Ber traflic gew-gaws, fleeting joys ! 
An airaat juggler fai disguise. 
Who holds fotte optics to your eyei. 
Boi ah 1 how quick the shadows pass ; 
Tho^ tiM bright visions thro' her i^asi 
Chaiai at a di«tance; yet, when near. 
The bnaelcss fobrics disappear. 

" Nor riches boast intrinsic worth. 
Their charms at best, superior earth : 
These oft the fleav*n-born mind enslave. 
And make an honest man a knave. 
' Wealth cores my wants,* the i^iser cries ; 
Be not deeeiv'd-^the miser lies : . 
One wast be has, with alt his store. 
That wont of wants ! the want of more. 

" • Ttke Pleasure, Wealth, and Pomp away. 
And where is Happiness?' yon say. 

" Til hero and may be yoors — ^for, know 
Vm all that's Happniess below. 

** To Vice I leave tumultuou? joys. 
Mine b the still and softer voice ; 
That whiqiers peace, when storms invade, 
And mosic thro* the midnight shade. 

•* Come then, be mine in ev'ry i)art, 
Nor give me less, than all your heart ; 
AVheo troubles discompose your breast, 
111 enter there a cheerful guest : 
My converse shall your cares bci^uile. 
The little world within shaH smile; 
And then it scarce imports a jot, 
Whether the great world frowns or not. 

** And when the ckmng scenes prevail, 
When weahb, state, pfeasnre. all shall fail ; 
All that a foolish world admires, 
(>r iwiun cvvres, ,or pride mspires ; 



At that important hour of need, 
Virtue shall prove a friend indeexl ! 
My hands shall smooth thy dying bed. 
My arms sustain thy drooping liead : 
And when th« painful 8truc^:flft 's oVr, 
And that vain thing, the tvorid, no more ; 
1*11 bear my favVite son away 
To rapture, and eternal day." 



FRIENDSHIP, 
VISION VI. 

Friehpship ! thou soft, propitious pow'cl 
Sweet regeut of the social lioor ! 
Sublime thy jojrs, nor understood 
But by the virtuous and the good ! 
Cabal and Riot take thy name. 
But 'tis a false aflected claim. . 
In Heav'u if Love and Friendship dwell. 
Can rhey associate e'er with Hell ? 

Thou art the same thro' change of times. 
Thro' frozen zones, and bumiug climes : 
From the equator to the pole. 
The same 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 sovereign cure. 
Not soft Nepenthe ^ bnlf so sure ! 

And when returning comforts rise. 
Thou the bright Sun that gil^s our skiea. 
While these ideas warm'd my breast. 

My weary eye-lids stole to rest; 

When Fancy re^assum'd the theme. 

And famish'd this instructive dream. 
I saiPd upon a stormy sea, 

(Thousands embark'd alike with me) 

My skiff was small, and weak beside, 

Not built, methought, to stem the tkle. 

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 v^ious course pursoe, 

A spacious ide salutes our view. 

Two queens, with tempers diff'ring wid^ 

This new-discover'd world divide. 

A river parts their proper claioi. 

And Truth its celebrated namci 

One side a beauteous tract of ground 

Presents, with living verdure crown'd. 

Tlie seasons temp'rate, soit, and mild. 

And a kind Sun that always stuil'd. 
Few storms niolcrst the natives here; 

Cold is the only ill they fear. 

This happy clime, and grateful soil. 

With plenty cruwns the lab'rt-rs toil. 
Here Friendship's happy kingdom grew, 

Her realms were small, her subjects few. 

A thousand charms the palace grace, 

A rock of adamant its base. 

* Nepenthe is an herb, which being infused in 
wine, dispels grief. It is unknown to the modems; 
but some believe it a kind of opium, and others take 
it for a species of bugloss. Plin. 21. 2 If & 25. 2. 



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Tho^ thuiKlen roll, -And lightnings By, 
This structure braves th* inclement sky. 
£v'n Time, which other piles devours, 
And mocks the pride of human pow'rs. 
Partial to Friendship's pile alone. 
Cements the joints, and binds the atone ; 
Ripens the beauties of the place ; 
And calls to life each latent grace. 
' Around the throne, in order stand 
Four Amazons, a trusty band | 
Frif'nds ever faithful to advise, 
Or to defend when dan^fers rise. 
Here Fortitude in coat of mail ! 
There Justice lifts her golden scale I 
Two hardy chiefi> ! 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 ail the virtues here; 
Adom'd with ev'ry blooming grace, 
With'jut 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 mim)r, faithful to its charge. 
Reflects the virgin's soul in large. 

A virtue with a softer air, 
Was handmaid to the regal fair. 
This nymph, indulgent, constant, kind. 
Derives from Heav'n her sp<»tless 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. 
And from her queen obtains suppliesu 
The maid, who acts this lovely part, 
GraspM in her hand a bleeding heart. 
Pair Charity ! be thou my guest. 
And be thy constant couch my breast. 

But virtues of inferior name, 
Crowd round the throne with equal claiiD; 
In loyalty by none sarpass'd. 
They hold allegiance to the last. 
Not ancient recoils e'er can show 
That one deserted to the ibc. 

The river's other side display 'd 
Alternate plots of flow' rs and shade, 
Where poppies'shone with various hue. 
Where yielding willows plenteous grew; 
And humble-plants, • by travMlevs thought 
With slow but certain poison fraught. 
Beyond these scenes, the rye descry'd 
A pow'rfiil realm extended wide, 
Wliose bound'ries from north-east begtm. 
And stretch'd to meet the south-w&it SuD. 
Here Flatt'ry lioabts despotic sway, 
And basks in all the warmth of day. 

Long practis'd in Deception's school. 
The tyrant knew the arts to rule ; 
Elated with th' imperial robf>, ' 

She plans the conquest of the globe ; 

* The humble-plant bends down before the touch 
(aft the sensitive plant shrinks from the touch) and 
k taid by aooato to be the slow p .iMon uf the Indians. 



And aided by her servile trains, 

I^ads kings, and sons of kings, in cbalof. 

Her darling minister is Pride. 

(Who ne'er was known to change his side) 

A friend to all hex interests just. 

And active to discharge his tmat; 

Caress'd alike by high and low. 

The idol of the belle and beau : 

In ev'ry shape, he shows 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 sov'reign's throne ! 

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

Next AflFcetation, fair and young, 
Wilh half-form'd accents on her tongne. 
Whose antic shapes, and various face. 
Distorted every native grace. 

Then Vanity, a wanton maid. 
Flaunting in Brussels and brocade ; 
Fantastic, frolicsome, 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 psid. 
And happiest he, who most ob^y*d. 
While they, who sought their owd applause. 
Promoted most their suv'reign's cause. 
The minds of all were fraught with guil«^ 
Their manners dissolute and vile ; 
And every tribe, like Pagans, run 
To kneel before the rising Sun. 

But now some clam'rous sounds arisen 
And all the pleasing vision flies. 

Once more I clos'd my eyes to sleep. 
And gain'd th' imaginary deep ; 
Fancy presided at the helm. 
And steer 'd me back to Friendship's realnk 
But oh I with horrour I relate 
The revolutions of her state. 
The Trojan chief cou'd hardly'more 
His Asiatic tow'rs deplore. 
For Flatt'ry view'd tliose fairer plains. 
With longing eyes, where Friendship reigns. 
With envy heard her neigbours fame. 
And often sigh'd to gain the same. 
At length, by pride and int'rest fir*d. 
To Friendship's kingdom she aspir'd. 

And now commencing open foe. 
She plans in thought some mighty blow ; 
Draws out her forces on the green. 
And marches to invade the queen. 

The river Truth the hosts withstood. 
And roll'd her formidable flood : 
Her current strong, and deep, and clear* 
No fords were found, no ferries near : 
But as the troops approach'd the waves, 
Their fears suggest a thousand graves ; 
They all retir'd witli haste extreme. 
And shuddeHd at the dan^'rous stream. 



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3J 



Hypocrisy the gnlph explores ; 
9be tixms a bridge, sod joins the shores. 
Thus often art or frao^ prevails. 
When military prowess foils. 
The troops an easy passage find. 
And Vid'ry follows close behind 

Friendship with ardoor cbarg'd her foes, 
Aad mm the fight promiseaous grows ; 
Bat Flatt'ry threw a poisooM daxt, 
And piercM the empress to the heart. 
The viTtnes all around were seen 
To foil hi heaps about the queen. 
The tyrant stript the mangled fair. 
She wore her spoils, assom'd her air; 
And mounting next the suff're: 's throne, 
OaimM the queen's titles as her own. 

" Ah ! injured maid," aloud I cry'd, 
** Ah I injured maid,*' the rocks reply'd: 
But judge my griefo, and share them too^ 
For the sad tale pertains to you ; 
Judge, reader, how severe the wound, 
When Friendship's foes were mine, 1 found ; 
When the sad scene of pride and guile 
Was Britain's poor degenerate isle. 

The Amazons, who propp'd the state, 
Bsply survived the general iate. 
Jastke to Powis-house is fled. 
And Yorke sustains her radiant head* 
TThe virtue Fortitude appears 
Id open day at Ligonier*s ; 
fllttstrkMis heroine of the sky. 
Who leads to vanquish or to die! 
Tvas she our vet'rans' breasts in8pir*d. 
When Belgians foithless sons retired: 
For Ttouroay's treach*rous low'rs can tell 
BrkaoDia*8 children greatly felL 

Ko psurtial virtue of the plain 1 
She rous'd the lions of the main : 
Heaoe Venion^s little fleet 3 succeeds, 
Aad beooe the gen'reus Cornwall * bleeds ! 
Hence Gieenville ^ glorious ! — for she smiPd 
Ob the young hero from a child. 

Tho* in high Tife such virtues dwell, 
Tlieyll suit plebeian breasts as well. 
Sty, that the mighty and the great 
Bbze like meridian suns of state ; 
Effolgieot excellence display, 
Lie Hallifax, in floods of day ; 
Oar leaser orbs may pour their light, 
like the mild crescent of the night. 
TW pale our beams, and small our sphere 
Slill we may shine serene and clear. 

Give to the judge the scarlet gown. 
To martial souls the civic crown : 
W*hal tben ? is merit their's alone ? 
Have we no worth to call our own? 
Shall we not vindicate our part, 
la the firm breast, and upright heart ? 
Header, these virtues may be thine, 
Tbo* in superior light they shine. 
I cai^t disdtarge great Uardwick's trust— 
Trae — bat my soul may still be just. 
And tho* I can't the sUte defend, 
111 dcaw the sword to serve my friend* 

3 At Porto Hello. 

* Agahift the combined fleets of France and Spain. 

* Died in a later eogsgoment with the French fleet 



Two golden virtues are behind, 
Of equal import to the mind ; 
Prudence, 'to point oat Wisdom's way. 
Or to reclaim us when we stray j* 
Temperance, to guard the youthful heart, 
When Vice and Folly throw tlie dart ; 
Fach virtue, let the world agree. 
Daily resides with you and me. 
And when our souls in friendship join. 
We'll deem the sopial bond dmne ; 
Thro' ev'ry scene maintain our trust, 
Kor e'er be timid or unjust 
That breabt, which Virtue calls lier own. 
That breast, where Honour builds his throne. 
Nor int'rest warps, nor fear appalls. 
When danger fruwns; or lucre calls. 
No I the true friend collected stands, 
Fearless his heart, and pure his hands. 
Let int'rest plead, let storms arise. 
He dares be honest, though he dies. 



MARRIAGE. 

VISION VII. 

INSCRIBBO TO MISS ***♦, 

Fairest, this vision is thy due, 
I form'd th' instructive plan fur you. 
Slight not the rules of thoughtful age. 
Your weifore actuates every page ; 
But ponder well my sacred theme. 
And tremble, while you read my dream. 

Those awful words, " Till death do part,* 
May well alarm the youthful heart : 
No after-thought when once a wife ; 
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 wedieck-scenes, 
Tho' hardly enter'd on her teens ; 
Smiles on her whining spark, and hears 
The sugar'd 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 more. 
- Some few there are of sordid mould. 
Who barter youth and bloom for gold ; 
Careless wKh what, or whom they mate^ 
Their rulipg passion's all for state. 
But Hymen, gen'rous, just, and kind^ 
Abhors the mercenary mind : 
Such rebels groan beneath his rod. 
For Hymen's a vindictive god j 
" Be joyless ev'ry night," he said, 
" And barren be their nuptial bed." 

Attend, my foir, to Wisdom's voice, 
A belter fate shall crown thy cilice. 
A married life, to speak the best, 
Is all a lottery confest : 
Yet if my fair one will be wise, 
I will insure my girl a prize; 
Tho' not a prize to match thy worth, 
Perhaps thy equal's not on Earth. 

Tis an important point to know. 
There's no perfection here below. 
Man's an odd compound, after all. 
And ever has been since the falL 



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corrroN'g POEMS. 



Say, that he lores yon from his loul. 
Still man is proud, nor brooks ooatrottL 
Aod tho' a slave in Love's soft school^ 
Id wedlock claims his right to rule. 
The best, in short, has ^ults about him, 
If few those faults, you must not flout him. 
With some, indeed, you can't dispensey 
As want of temper, and of sense. 
For when the Sun deserts the skies^ 
And the dull winter evenings rise. 
Then for a husband's social pow*r. 
To form the calm, convcrsivc hour; 
The treasures of thy breast explore. 
From that rich mine to draw the ore ; 
Fondly cadi generous thought refine, 
And give thy native gold to shine) 
Show thee, as really thou art, 
Tho' fair, yet fairer still at heart 

Say, when life's purple blossoms &de. 
As soon they must, thou charming maid ; 
When in thy cheeks the roses die, 
And sickness clouds that brilliant eye ; 
Say, when or age or pains invade. 
And those dear limbs shall call for aid ; 
If thou art fetter'd to a fool. 
Shall not his transient passion cool ? 
Ami when thy health and beauty end, 
Shall thy weak mate persist a friend ? 
But to a man of sense, my dear, 
Kv'n then thou lovely shalt appear; 
He '11 share the giic^ that wound thy heart, 
And weeping claim the larger part ; 
Tho' age impairs that beauteous &oe» 
He'll prize the pearl beyond its case. 

In wedlock when the sexes meet» 
Friendship is only then complete. 
'* Blest state ! where souls each otiwr dnbw. 
Where love is liberty and law H' 
The choicest blessing found liplow, 
That man can wish, or Heaven bestow I 
Trust me, these raptures are divine, 
For lovely Chloe once was mine I 
Nor fear the varnish of my style, 
Tho' poet, I'm estranged to guile. 
Ah me ! my faithful lips impart 
Thtf prnuine language of my heart ! 

When bards extol their patrons hagb» 
Perhaps 'tis gold c-xtoits the lie j 
Perhaps the poor reward of bcead^- 
But who bums incense to the dea4 ? 
He, whom a fond a^cction 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, and profit by my dream. 

Amidst i1k: slumlx^rs of the night, 
A stately temple 'rose to sight ; 
And ancient as the human race. 
If Nature's purposes you trace. 
1 his fanc.y by all the wise rever'd, 
To wedlock's pow'rful god was rcar'd. 
Hard by I saw a graceful sage. 
His locks were frosted e'er by age ; 
His garb was plain, his mind serene, 
And wisdom dignifiv-d his mien. 
With curious search his name I sought. 
And found 'twas Hymen's fav'rite — ^I'liought 



Apace the giddy crowds advsooei 
And a lewd satyr led the danoe s 
1 griev'd to see whole thonsanils ran, 
For oh ! what thousands w«re undone ! 
The sage, when thsee mad troops he spy'd. 
In pity flew to join their side : 
The disconcerted pairs b^gaa 
To rail against him, to a nmn ; 
Vow'd they were strangers to his name. 
Nor knew from wiience the dotard came. 

But mark the aeqoel— for this troth 
Highly concerns impetuoos youth : 
liong ere the honey-moon coold wane. 
Perdition sciz'd on ev'ry swatn ; 
At ev'ry house, and alt day long, 
Repentance ply'd ^r scorpion throng $ 
Outgust was there with frowning men. 
And every wayward child of Spleen. 
Hymen approacb'd his awful fane, 
Attended by a numerous train : 
Love with each soft and nameless grace. 
Was first in Ikvour and in place ; 
Then came the god with solemn gait. 
Whose ev'ry word was big with fttte ; 
His hand a flaming taper bore. 
That sacred symbol, fiimM of yote : 
Virtue, adorn'd with ev'ry charm, 
Snstain'd the god's incumbent arm ; 
Beauty improv'd the glowing scene 
With all the roses of eighteen : 
Youth led the gayly-smitiag ftur, 
His purple pinions waVd in air% 
Wealth, a close hunks, walk'd hobbling nigh. 
With vulture-claw, and eagle-eye; 
Who threescore years had seen, or more, 
(lis said his coat had seen a score ;) 
Proud was the wretch, tho' clad ni mgi. 
Presuming much upon his bags, 

A female neat her arts display'd. 
Poets alone can paint the makl : 
Trust me, Hogaith, (tho' great thy fame) 
'Twould pose thy skill to draw the same ; 
And yet thy mimic powV is more 
Than ever painter's was before : 
Now she was iair as cygnet's down, 
Now as Mat Prior's Emma, brown ; 
And) changing as the changing .flow'r. 
Her dress she vary'd tv'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 fete : 
His head with radiant glories drest. 
Gently reclin'd on Virtue's breast : 
Love took his station on the right. 
His quiver beam'd with golden light. 
Beauty usurped the second place. 
Ambitious of distinguish'd grace ; 
She claim'd this ceremonial joy. 
Because related 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 ballow'd rites proceed. 
And now a thousand heart-strings bload. 
I saw a blooming trembling bride, 
A toothless lover join'd her side ; 



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41 



▲vene the tum'd her wtsepag hc% 
Ami •bndder'd at the cold embmw. 

Bat Taiioas baits timr fotet imparts 
IWi titln lie at Oaiia*t heart : 
A pewion Bodi too fool to name^ 
Oms flopeicUioiis prudes their tune : 
Pradci wed to pnbUcBBB aad nmen ; 
The ho^ry poet wedi for ctiBoeri. 

The god with frown indigaant vkw'd 
The n£ble covetoos or lewd ; 
tf e^ry 'rice hit altan itain'd, 
Bf eT*ry fool his rites pralaa'd: 
Wheo L«re comphun*d of Wealth alood, 
Afiraungy Wealth debaiieh>d the enmd ; 
Drev op in form his heavy charge, 
Bwriag to be heard at large. 

The god consents, the tlnoog dinde. 
The young esponsM the plaintuips side : 
The old declar'd for the defendant. 
For Age is Money's sworn attendant. 

Love said, that wedlock was design'd 
Bf gFanoos Heav'n to match the mind ; 
To pair the tender and the just. 
And his the delegated tnm : 
Tbat Wcahh had play'd a knavish part. 
And tsoght the tongue to wrong the heart ; 
Bet what avails the faithless voice } 
Tbe iujor'd heart disdains the choice.— 

Wealth straight reply'd, that Love was blind. 
And talked at random of the mind : 
llMt killing eyes, and bleedmg hearts, 
Aad all th* artillery of darts, 
Were long ago exploded foncies. 
And laosh'd at even in roroaaoesw 
Poeu indeed style love a treat. 
Perhaps for want of better meat : 
And love might be deucioas fare, 
Coo'd we, like poets Kve on air. 
Bat grant that angels foast on loive, 
(rbooe purer esienoss above) 
Vet Albion's sons, he understood, 
Prefcarr'd a more substantial food. 
TTtns while with gibes he dress'd his cause, 
H» grey admirers hemm'd a p plause. 

With seeming conquest pert and proud, 
Wealth shook his sides, and chockled load; 
When Fortune, to restrain his pride. 
And fond to fovonr Love beside. 
Op'ning the miser's tape-ty'd Vetky 
Bndos'd the cares which stung his hrsast : 
Wealth stood abash'd at his disgrace, 
Aad a deep crimson flushed his foce. 

Love sweetly simper'd at the sight 
His gay adherents laugh'd outright 
The god, the' grave his temper, smii'd, 
For Hymeo dourly priz'd the diild. 
But he who triumphs o'er his brother, 
la turn is laogfa'd at by another. 
Sach cmel scores we often find 
Repaid the criosiaal in kind. 
Fgr Poverty, that fomish'd fiend ! 
Ambitioos of a wealthy friend, 
Advanc'd into the miser's place. 
And star*d the stripling in the face ; 
Whose lips grew pale, and cold as day f 
I tfaoq^t the chit wonld swoon away. 

The god waa studious to employ 
His cares to aid the vaaqpish'd boy ; 



And therefore isia*d his decree, 
That the two parties strai^t agree. 
When both obey'd the god's commands^ 
And Love and Riches join'd their hands. 

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

Beauty, that vain affected thhig. 
Who join'd the h ymen e a l ring, 
Approach'd with round unthinking fooe, 
And thus the triiler states her case. 

She said, that Love's complatnts, 'twas known. 
Exactly tally'd with her own } 
That Wealth had leaned the felon's arts. 
And robb'd her of a thousand hearts ; 
Desiring judgment against Wealth, 
For folsehood, peijury, and Mealth : 
All which she ooo'd on oath depose, 
And hop'd the court would sKt his nose. 

But Hymen, when he heard her name, 
Cali'd her an interfoping 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 tyrant's pride. 
He order'd Fancy to preside. 
Hence, i^hen debates on beauty rise. 
And each bright feir 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 amards preclude appeals. 



LIFE. 

VISION VIII. 



Lit not the young my precepts shun ; 
Who slight good counaels, are undonew 
Yonr poet sung of love's delights. 
Of halcyon days and joyous nightij 
To the gay fency lovely themes ; 
And foin I'd hope theyte more than i 
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 thoughto too high. 
And hardly know the reason why : 
But say Life's tree bears golden fruit. 
Some canker shall corrode the root ; 
Some nneacpected storm shall rise ; 
Or scorching suns, or chilling skies ^ 
And (if ezperienc'd truths avail) 
All your autumnal hopes shall foil. 

" But, poet, whence such wideeatremea^ 
Well may you style your laboois dreamn. 
A son of sorrow thou, I ween. 
Whose visions are the brats of Spleen. 
Is bliss a vague unmeaning nam«— 
Speak then the passions^use or aim ; 
AVhy rage desires without control. 
And rouse snch whirlwinds io the soul; 



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canovrs poems. 



Why Hot>e erects her towMng crest, 
And laughs, and riots in the breast } 
Thiok not, my weaker brain turns rcNmd, 
Think not, I tread on feiry ground. 
Think not, yoor pulse alone beats trae-^ 
Jiline makes as healthful music too. 
Our joys, when life's soft spring we trao^ 
Put forth their early bods apace. 
See the bloom loads the tender shoot| 
The bloom conceals the future fruit. 
Yes, manhood's wann meridian sun 
Shall ripen what in spring begun. 
Thus infant roses; ere they blow. 
In germinating clusters grow ; 
And only wait the summer's ray. 
To burst and blossom to the day." 

What said the gay unthinking boy ?-^ 
Methought Hilario talk'd of joy ! 
Tell, if thou canst, whence joy^ arise, 
Or what those mighty joys you prize. 
You'll find (and trust superior years) 
. The vale of life a vale of tears. 
Could wisdom teach, where joys abound. 
Or riches purchase them, when found. 
Would scepter'd Solomon complain. 
That all was fleeting, false, and vain } 
Yet scepter'd Solomon oou'd say 
Returning clouds obscur'd his day. 
Those maxims, which the preacher drew^ 
The royal sage expericnc'd true. 
He knew the various ills that wait 
Our infant and meridian state ; 
That toys our earliest thoughts engage. 
And (^ifPrent toys maturer age ; 
That grief at ev'ry stage appears, 
But d iff 'rent griefe at diflfrent years { 
That vanity is seen, in part, 
Inscribed on ev'ry human heart ; 
In the child's breast the spark began, 
Grows with his growth, and glares in man. 
But when in life we journey late. 
If follies die, do griefs abate ? 
Ah ! what is life at fourecore years >— - [tears ! 
One dark, rough road of sighs, groans, pains and 

Perhaps you'll think I act the same, 
As a sly sharper plays his game: 
You triumph ev'ry deal that's past, 
He's sore to triumph at the last ; 
Who often wins some thousands more 
Than twice the sum yon won before. 
But I'm a loser with the rest 
For life is all a deal at best ; 
Wh^re not the prize of wealth or fame> 
Repays the trouble of the game j 
(A truth no winner e'er deny'd. 
An hour before that winner dy'd). 
Not that with me these prizes shine. 
For neither fame nor wealth are min^ 
My cardb I-^a weak plebeian band, « 
With scarce an honour in my hand. 
And, since my tnimps are very few, 
What have I more to boast than you t 
Nor am I gainer by your fall I 
That harlot Fortune bubbles all. 

'Tis truth (receive it ill or well) 
Tis melancholy truth I tell. 
Why should the preacher take your pence. 
And smother truth to flatter sense ? 



Pm sure, physicians hxfe no meriCr 
Who kill, thro* lenity of spirit 

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

Sailors, you know, when wan obtai% 
And hostile vessels crowd the main^- 
If they discover from afar 
A bark, as distant as a star, 
Hold the perspective to their eyes^ 
To learn its colours, strength, and size; 
And when tliis secret once they know^ 
Make ready to receive the foe. 
Let you and I from sailors learn 
Important truths of like concern. 

I clos'd the day as custom led. 
With reading, till the time of bed ; 
Where Fancy, at the midnight hour^ 
Again display'd her magic pow'r, 
(For know, that Fancy, like a sprigbt. 
Prefers the silent scenes of night) 
She lodg'd me in a neighboring wood. 
No matter where the thicket stood ; 
The genius of the place was nigh. 
And held two pictures to my eye. 
Hie curious painter had pourtray'd 
Life in each just and genuine shade. 
They, who have only known its dawn. 
May think these lines too deeply drawn ; 
But riper years, 1 fear, will shew. 
Hie wiser artist paints too true. 

One piece presents a rueful wild. 
Where not a summer's son had smiPd : 
The road with thorhs is coverOd wide, 
And Orief sits weeping by the side j 
Her tears with constant tenour flow. 
And form a mournful lake below ; 
Whose silent waters, dark and deep,' 
Thro' all the gloomy valley creep. 

Passions that flatter, or that slay. 
Are beasts that fawn, or birds that prey. 
Here Vice assumes the serpent's shape ; 
There Folly personates the ape; 
Here Av'rice gripes with harpies' claws ; 
There Malice grins with tigers' jaws ; 
While sons of mischief. Art and Ouile^ 
Are alligators of the Nile. 

Ev'n Pleasure acts a treach'rous part. 
She charms the sense, but stings the heart; 
And when she guUs us of our weal^hi 
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 I 
He sends the all-devouring flame. 
And cities hardly boast a name : 
Or wings the pestilential blast. 
And lo ! ten thousands breathe their last : 
He speaks— obedient tempests roar. 
And guilty nations are no more : 
He spesiks — the fury Discord raves. 
And sweeps whole armies to their graves: 
Or Famine lifts her mildew'd hand, 
And Hunger howls tliro* all the land. 

** Oh I what a wretch is man." 1 cry^d, 
'* Expos'd to death on ev'ry side ! 



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TISIONS 

\ 

And luie as bora, to be undone 

B7 evils which he cannot ahun I 

Besidfs a thouaand baits to «in, 

A thoaaanda trahora lodg'd within I 

For soon aa Vice as.«aulta the heart. 

The rebeia take the demon's part." 
I sigh, my aching bosom bleeds ; 

When straight the milder plan aocceeds. 

The lake of tears, the dreary shore. 

The same as in the piece before. 

But irleams of light are here displayed. 
To cheer the eye anfl ^ild the shade. 
iUBictioa speaks a softer style. 
And Disappointment wears a imile. 
A group of Tirtnes blossom near, 
Tbtir roots imptove by cv'ry tear. 

Here Patience, gentie maid ! is nigh. 
To calm the sti)rm, and wipe the eye j 
Hope acts the kind physician's part. 
And warms the soliury heart ; 
Itelisirin nobler comfort brings, 
Disarms our grieiv, or bhmt» their stings ; 
Poiots out the balance on the whole, 
Aad HeaT*n rewards the slrasrsrling soul. 

But while these raptures 1 pursue. 
The genius suddenly withdrew. 



DEATH. 



VISION THE LAST. 

Tu thoaght my Visions are too grave ' ^ 
A proof I'm no desr^ing knave. 
Fahapi if Int'rest held the scales, 
I bad deris'd quite dift>ent tales; 
Had joinM the laughing low buiibon, 
Aad scribbled satire and lampoon ; 
Or stirr'd each source of soft desire, 
lad fiion'd the coals of wanton fire ; 
Tbea had my paltry Visions »)ld, 
Yo, all my dreams had tum'd to gold ; 
Had pro?*d the darlings of the town, 
Aad I— a poet of renown ! 

Let not my awful theme surprise, 
iet 00 unmanly fears arise. 
I wear no melancholy hue, 
Ko wreaths of cjrprrss or of yew. 
Hk dirood, the coffin, pall, or herse, 
Stall ne'er deform my softer verse : 
Let me con si gi i the f.m'ral plume, 
TV herald's paint, the sfp|ptur*d tomb, • 

And all the solemn f.irre i>f graven, 
To undertakers and their slaves. 

YoQ know, that moral wriiers sny 
The world's a stage, and Ijfe a play ; 
That in this drama to succeed. 
Requires much thought, and toil indeed ! 
Ilwre still remains one lalxjur more, 
P^erhaps a greater than before. 
Indolge the search, and you shall find 
The harder task is still behind ; • 
That harder task, to quit the stage 
In eaily yooth, or riper age ; 
To leave the company and pla^ e, 
With firmness, dignity, and grace. 

Come, then, the closing scenes surrey, 
Ttt the last act which crowns the play. 

'See the Monthly ReTiev of New Books, for 
liefaniary 1751. 



IN VERSE. 

Do well this grand decisiTe part. 
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. 

Instructiye heroes ! tell us whence 
Your noble soom 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, 
The friend, the parent, child, and wife. 
Death's black and stormy gulph you brave. 
And ride exulting on the wavej 
Deem thrones but tri.^es all ! — no mor&— 
Nor send one wishful look to shore. 

For foreign ports and lands unknown. 
Thus the firm sailor leaves his own j 
Obedient to the rising gale. 
Unmoors his bark, and spreads his sail ; 
Defies the ocean, and the wind. 
Nor monms the joys he leaves behind. 

Is Death a powerful monarch ? True-» 
Perhaps you dread the tyrant too ! 
Fear, like a fog. precludes the light. 
Or swells the object to the sight. 
AHend 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 : 
Hold frequent coitverse with him now. 
He'll daily wear a milder brow. 
Why is my theme with terrour fraught } 
Because yon shun the frequent thought 
Say, when the captive pard is nigh. 
Whence thy pale cheek and frighted eye ? 
Say, why dismay'd thy manly breast. 
When the grim lion shakes his crest ? 
Because these savage fights are new-* 
No keeper shudders at the view. 
Keepers, accustom'd to the scene. 
Approach the dens with look serene. 
Fearless their grisly charge explore. 
And smile to hear the tyrants roar. 
" Ay — but to die I to bid adieu ! 
An everlasting farewell too 1 
Farewell to ev'ry joy around ! 
Oh I the heart sickens at the sound !" 

Stay, stripling — ^thou art poorly taught^ 
Joy didst thou say ? — discard the tliought 
Joys are a rich celestial fruit. 
And scorn a sublunary root 
Whit wears the face of joy below. 
Is often found but Hplendid wop. 
Joys here, like unsubstantial fame. 
Are nothings with a pon)pou*< 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 boil. 
Yet still we hope, and Uill we toil ^ 
Deceive ourselves with wond'rous art. 
And disappointment wrings the heart. 
Thus when a m'wt collects around. 
And hovers o'er a barren ground, 
The poor deluded trav'ler spies 
hnagin'd trees and structures nse j 



a 



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COTTON'S POEMS. 



But wheD the shrouded flan is clear, 
The desert and the recks appear. 

*' Ah— hut when yoothftil blood runs high, 
Sure tis a dreadfiil thing to die ! 
To die ! and what exalts the gloom, 
I'm told that man snrvives the tomb ! 

! can the learned prelate find 
What future scenes await the mind ? 
Where wings the soul, dislodg'd from clay ? 
Some courteous angel point the way ! 
That unknown somewhere hi the skies! 
Say, where that unknown somewhere lies ; 
And kindly prove, when life is o'er. 

That pains and sorrows are no more. 

For doubtless dying is a curse. 

If present ills be chang'd for worse.*' 

Hush, my young friend, forego the theme, 
And listen to your poetPs dream. 

£re>while I took an evening walk, 
Honorio join'd in social talk. 
Along the lawns the zephyrs sweep. 
Each ruder wind was lulPd asleep. 
The sky, all beauteous to behold, 
Was streaked with azure, green, and gold ; 
But, tho' serenely soft and fair. 
Fever hung brooding in the ahr; 
Then settled on Honorio's breast. 
Which shuddered at the fatal gueSt 
No drugs thfi kindly wish fulfil. 
Disease eludes the doctor's skill. 
The poison spreads through all the firame. 
Ferments, and kindles into flame. 
From side to side Honoriotunu, 
And now with thirst insatiate bums. 
His eyes resign their wonted grace, 
Those friendly lamps expire apace ! 
The brain's an useless organ grown. 
And Reason tumbled from his throne.— 
. But while the purple, surges glow. 
The currents thicken as they flow ; 
The blood in ev'ry distant pert 
Stagnates and disappoints the heart ; 
Defrauded of its crimson store. 
The vital engine plays no more. 

Honerio dead, the fon'Tal bell 
Call'd ev'ry friend to bid fkrewelT. 

1 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 snnk to rest, 
A vision sooth'd my troubled breast 

I dceam'd the spectre Death appear'd, 
I dream'd his hollow voice I heai^ ! 
Methought th' imperial tyrant wore 
A state no prince assum'd before. 
All nature 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 shuffled with unequal pace, 
And conscious shame defbrm'd his hat. 
With jealous leer he squinted round. 
Or fix'd his eyes upon the ground. 
From Hell this frightful monster came. 
Sin was his sire, and Quilt his name. 

This fury, with officious care. 
Waited around the aov'reign's chair ^ 
In robes of terrours drest the king. 
And arm'd hhn wHh a baneful sting ; 



Gave fierceness to the tyrants ey«. 
And hung the sword upon his thigh. 
Diseases next, a hideoos croird ! 
Proclaim'd their master's empire kmd ; 
And, all obedient to his will, 
Flew in commission'd troops to kin. 

A rising whirlwind shakes the poles. 
And lightning glares, and thunder rolls. 
The monarch and his train prepare 
To range the foul tempestuous atr. 
Straight to his shoaMers he applies 
Two pinions of enormons size I 
Methought I saw the ghastly form 
Stretch his black wings, and mount the 
When Fancy's airy horse I strode. 
And jotn'd the army on the road. 
As the grim conqu'ror nrg'd his way. 
He scatter'd terrour and dismay. 
Thousands a pensive aspect wore. 
Thousands who sneer'd at Deadi before. 
Lifers records rise on ev'ry side. 
And Conscience spreads those volumes wide; 
Which faithful registers were brought 
By psile-ey'd Fear and busy Thought 
"niose faults which axthl men conceal. 
Stand here engrav'd with 'pen of steel. 
By Conscience, that impartial scribe I 
Whose honest palm disdains a bribe. 
Their actions all like critics view, 
Aod lall like faithful critics too. 
As guih had stain'd life's varioas stage. 
What tears of blood bedew'd the page ! 
All shudder'd at the black aocoont. 
And scarce believ'd their vast amount 1 
All vow'd a sudden change of heart. 
Would D^th relent, and sheathe his 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 charge^ 
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 sigiis for vans;.- 
[ Soon as he views the eastern ray. 
He mourns the quick return of day -, 
Hourly laments protncted breath. 
And courts the healing hand of Death. 

Venes, oppress'd with guilt and shame, 
Shipwreck'd in fortune, health, and fame. 
Pines for his dark sepulchral bed. 
To mingle with th' unheeded dead. 

With fouraeore years grey Natho bends^ 
A burden to himself and friends ; 
And with impatience seems to wait 
The friendly hand of Img'ring fete. 
So hirelings w'lsh their labour done. 
And often eye the western Sun. 

The monarch hears their vark)UB grief, 
Desceads, and brines the wish'd relief. 
On Death with wil<i surprise they staled ; 
All seemed averse ! all unprepar'd ! 

As torrents sweep with rapid force. 
The grave's pale chief porsu'd his course. 
No human pow'r can or withstand. 
Or shun the conquests of his hand. 



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VISIONS IN VERSE. 



4S 



Oh! ecmUtiieprineeoroprislilmtnl, 

And, as a gnardiaii angel, Jund, 

With ev'iy heartfelt voith beside. 

Turn the keen shaft of Death aside. 

When vonld the bcanre Aognstus join 

The ashes of his sacred Une ; 

But Death maintainB no partial war« 

He mocks a saltan or a czar. 

Hr lays his iron hand on all— 

Yes, kings, and son of kings, mml fall I 

A truth Britannia lately felt. 

And trembled to her centre > ! — 

CouM ablest statesnen vaid thebloipy 
WonM OraoTillo o«n this common foe t 
For greater talents ne'er were known 
To grace the^ &v*rite of a thraae. 

Coa'd genius save-^it, learning, fire- 
Ten me, ivoaM Chesteifleld expire ? 
Say, von'd his gtorions Son decline, 
Aad set Idee your pale star or mine } 

CoQ'd er^ry virtue of the tkj-^ 
Woa'd Herri^ «, Butler s, Secker« die f 

Why this address to i»enige aU^^ 
lotitled Allen'» virtues call ! 
If AIl«'D*s worth demands a place, 
birds, with yoUr leave, 'tis no disgrace. 
Tho' higli your ranks in heralds* roils, 
Know Virtue too ennobles ssuls. 
By her that private man^s renown'd, 
^1io pours a tbovisand blegcings round. 
y>Yh\\e Allen takes Affiiotion's part, 
Aad draws oat all his gen'ions heart j 
Aaxioos to s^ke the fleeting day, 
LmI unjmprov'd it steal away ; 
VMile thus be walks with jealous strifc 
Tbro* goodness, as he walks thro* life. 
Shall net I mstfk his radiant patii ? 
Rise, Muse, and sing the Man of Bath * 
Publish abroad, cou'd goodness save, 
Allen wou*d disappoint the gmve; 
Translated to the heav'niy shore, 
Lko Enoch, when his walk was o*er. 

Not Beauty's powerful pleas retrain—- 
Her pleas are trifling, weak, and vain ; 
For woirieo pierce with shrieks the air, 
Smite their bare breasts, and rend their hair. 
All h2ve a doleful tale to tell. 
How friends, sons, daughters, husbands fell f 

Alas! is life onr fev'rite tbeme ! 
Ta all a vain, or painfol dream. 
A dream which fools or cowards prise. 
But slighted by the>brave or wise. 
Who lives, for others' ills must groan. 
Or bleed for sorrows of his own ; 
Most journey on with weeping eyw. 
Then pant, sink, agoniae, and die. 

'* And shall a man arraign the skies, 
Becaose man lives, and mooms, and dies ? 
Impatient reptile I" Reason cfyd; 
" Arraign thy passion and thy pride. 
Retire, and oommone with thy heart, 
AdE, whence thou cam'st, and what thou att. 
EipkMe thy body and thy mind. 
Thy statkm too, why here assign'd. 

'RefefriagtottiedeBthofhislatft royal highness 
Frederick prince of Wales. 
^ Archbisbop of Canterbury. 
* Late bishop of Durham. 
*BidiopofQsfoid. 



The search shall teach thee life to prize. 
And make thee gratefol, good, and wise. 
Why do yon roam to feireign climes. 
To study nations, modes, aad times ; 
A science often dearly bought, 
And often wbnt avails you nought ? 
Go, mao, and act a wiser part. 
Study the science of your heart. 
Iliis home philosophy, you know. 
Was priz'd some thousand years ago K 
Then why abroad a frequent guest ? 
Why such a stranger to your breast f 
Why turn so many volumes o'er. 
Till Dodsiey can supply no more ? 
Not all the volumes on thy shelf. 
Are worth that single volume, self. 
For who this sacred book decUnes, 
Howe'er in other arts he shines ; 
Tho' smit with Pindar's noble rage« 
Or vers'd in Tally's manly page ; 
Tho' deeply read in Plato's school ; 
With all his knowledge is a fool. 

*' Prochihn the truth — say, what is man? 
His body from the dost began ; 
And when a few short years are o'er. 
The crumbling febric is no more. 

<* But whence the soul } From Heav'n it 
Oh! prize this intellectual flame. 
Tliis 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. 
What makes his entertainments shine. 
What gives the relish to his wine ; 
He 'II tell thee, (if he scorns the beast) 
That social pleasures form the feast.. 
The charms of beauty too shall cloy. 
Unless the soul exalts the joy. 
Tlie mind must animate the face. 
Or cold and tasteless ev'ry grace. 

*' What ! most 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 soul ; 
Forbid her pinions to aspire, 
Damp and impcur her native ^n : 
And sore as Sense (that tyrant !) reigns, 
She holds the empress, Soul, in chains. 
Inglorious bondage to the mind, 
Heaven-born, sublime, and nnoonftn'd ! 
She's independent, fair 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 for firom view. 
Say, shall the man who knows her worth. 
Debase her dignity and birth ; 
Or e'er repine at Heaven's decree. 
Who kindly gave her leave to be ; 
Caird her from nothing into day. 
And built her tenement of clay; 
Hear and accept me for your guide, 
(Reason shall ne'er desert your side.) 

« KHow TflYSBLr-— a odebrated saying of CbSh, 
one of the seven wine men of Greece. 



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45 



COTTON'S POEMS. 



Who listens to my Wi^er voice, 
Can't but applaud his maker's choice ; 
Pleased with that first and sovereign cause, 
Pleas'd with unerring Wisdom's laws ; 
Secure, since Sovereign Goodness reigns. 
Secure, since Sov'reign Pow'r obtains. 

'* With (furious eyes review thy frame. 
This science shall direct thy claim. 
J)ost thon indulge a double view, 
A long, long life, and happy too i 
Perhaps a ^rther boon you crave- 
To lie down easy in the grave ? 
Know then my dictates roust prevail. 
Or surely each fond wish shall fail. — 
'< 0>me then; is happinejjs thy aim ? 
]jet mental joys be all thy game. 
Kepeat the search, and mend your pace, 
The capture shall reward the chase. 
Let ev'ry minute, as it springs, 
Ckmvey fresh knowledge on its wings ; 
Let ev'ry minute, as it flies, 
Record thee good as well as wise. 
While such pursuits your thoughts engage. 
In a few years youMl live an age. 
Who measures life by rolling years t 
Fools measure by revolving 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 setting ray j 
Contented with his share of light, 
Kor fear nor wish th' approach of night. 
And when Disease assaults the heart, 
When Sickness triumphs over Art , 
Beflections on a life well past. 
Shall prove a cordial to the last ; 
This med'cine 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 cool pnidential age ! 
I listened, and rever'd the sage. 
When lo ! a form divinely bright 
Descends and bursts upon my sight, 
A seraph of illustrious birth ! 
(Religion was her name on Earth) 
Supremely sweet her radiant face, 
And blooming with celestial grace ! 
Three shining cherubs fbrm'd her train, 
Wav'd their light wings, and reach'd the plain ; 
Faith, with sublime and piercing eye. 
And pinions flutt'nng for the sky ; 
Here Hope, that smiling angel, stands. 
And golden anchors grace her hands ^ 
There Charity, in robes of white. 
Fairest and iav'rite maid of light ! 

The seraph spake — ** 'Tis Reason's part. 
To govern, and to gnard the heart ; 
To lull the wayward soul to rest, 
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 ? 
Stranger, this skill alone is mine. 
Skill ! that transcends bis scanty line. 



<* That hoary «ge has cooniel'd right-* 
Be wise, nor scorn his friendly light. 
Revere thyself— tbon'rt near atly*d 
To angels on thy better side. 
How various e'er th&r ranks or kinds. 
Angels are but unbodied minds ; 
When the partition->walls decay, 
Men emerge angels from their claf; 
•* Yes, when the frailer body dies. 
The soul asserts Iter kindred skies. 
But minds, tho' sprung from heavenly race. 
Must first be tutor'd for the place. 
(The joys above are understood. 
And relish'd only by the good) 
Who shall assume this guardian care ? 
Who shall secure their birthright there? 
Souls are my charge— to me 'tis giv'n 
To train them for tl)eir native Heav'n, 

" Know then — Who bow the early knee^ 
And give the wliling heart to me ; 
Who wisely, when Temptation waits, 
Klude her frauds, and spurn her baits | 
Who dare to own my injur'd cause, 
(Tho' fools deride my sacred laws j) 
Or scorn to deviate to the wrong, 
Tho' Persecution lifts her thong ; 
Tho' all Che sons of Uell cunspire 
To raise the stake, and light the fire ; 
Know, that for such snperior souls. 
There lies a bliss beyond the poles ; 
Where spirits shine with purer ray. 
And brighten to meridian day ; 
Where love, where boundless friendship rules, 
(No friends that change, no love that coob I) 
Where rising floods of knowledge roll. 
And pour and pour upon the soul ! 

" But Where's the passage to the skies !— 
The road thre' 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 favour 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 monarch 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 wipM the filing tear ; 
Then hasten'd with expended wing 
To meet the pale terriOc king. 
But now what milder scenes arise 1 
The tyrant drops his hostile guise. 
He seems a youth divinely fair. 
In graceful ringlets waves his hair. 
His wings their whitening plumes display. 
His bumish'd plumes reflect the day. 
Light flows his shining azure vest. 
And all the angel stands confesL 

I viewM the change with sweet surprise. 
And oh ! I panted for he skies ; 
Thank'd Heav'n, Uiat e'er I drew my breath. 
And triumph'd in the thoughts of Death. 



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THE 



POEMS 



OF 



JOHN LOGAN, ERS. 



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TH£ 

LIFE OF JOHN LOGAN, 

BY MR. CHALMERS, 



John LOOAN was bom atM>ut the beghming of the year 1747-8» at Soutra^ in tbe 
ittrish of Fabiy on the southern extremity of Mid-Lothian, where hb father rented a 
■isll hxm. He appears to have been taught the 6r8t rudiments of learnuig at the school 
of Musselburgh, near EdtnlHirgh ; and here,, as well as at home, was jsealously in* 
itructed in the principles of the Calvinistic s^em of rsTiglon, as professed by tlie Se- 
cedeni a species of dissenters from the esta]pislied church of Scotland. 

In 1762, be entered on tbe usual coursemf sti^y at the university of Edinburgh, 
vbere he made uncommon proficiency in the learned languages, but discovered no 
freat iodination fer mathematics or metaphysics, ahlrougb he took care not to be^ 
deficient in those branches as to incur any censure, or create any hindrance to his aca- 
demical progiess. His turn being origmally to works of imagination, he found much 
tbst was congenial, in a course of lectures then read by professor John Stevenson, on 
Aristode's Art of Poetry, and on Longmus ; and while these directed his taste, he em- 
^ojtA his leisure hours in acquiring a more perfect knowledge of Homer, whoso 
kcaiities he relished with poetical enthusiasm. Tbe writings of Milton, and other 
eaiioent poets of the English series, became likewise his fiivouritft studies, and the dis« 
«ofery of Ossian's poems^ which took pbce when he was at college, opened new 
ISBites of admiratipn and improvement. 

At what time he began to imitate his favourite models, is doubtful, but as an inch* 
nation to write poetry is generally precipitate, it b probable that he had produced 
BBsay of bis lesser pieces while at the university: and he had the advice and en* 
(Ottiagement of Dr. John Main, of Athelstoheford, a clergyman of classical taste, in 
panning a track which genius seemed to have pointed out. He had also acquired the 
tneoMa^ and patronage of lord Elibank, and of the celebrated Dr. Blair, who re- 
lived feom as a' youth of promising talents, and unusual acumen in matters of criti* 
CHL Ify leconmendatkNi of Dr. Bhur, be was, m 1768, received into the family of 
Siadair, as private tutor to the present baronet of Ulbster, the editor of those statis* 
tifalreports»wiiid|iiiave done fQiBvcb honour to tb^ deri^ ^hancter qf Scotland, 

Vo-XfUU K 

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50 LIFE OF LOGAN. 

Here, however, Logan did not remain long, but returned to Edinburgh to attend the 
djvinity lectures with a view of enienng into the church. Either by reading, or by the 
company lie kept, he had already overcome the scruples which inclmed his parents to 
dissent, and determined to take orders in the establishment. 

In 17 7 i), he published a volume under the title of Poems on several Occasions, by 
Michael Bruce, a youth who died at the age t>f twenty-one, af^er 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 
contrpversy between the ve^pective friends ef Bruce and Logan. Bruce's poems have 
been very recently put^idied, for the benefit of his aged mother ; but as his 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 Dr. Robertson, of Dalmany, are how added to his avowed productions. 

In 1 770, after going through the usual probationary periods, Logan was admitted a 
preacher, and m 1773 was i^ivited to the pastoral charge at South Leith, which he ac- 
cepted. His poems, which had been hitherto circulated only in private, or perhaps 
occasionally inserted in the literary j^um'ab, pointed him out as a proper person to 
assist in a scheme for revising the psalmo4y of the diurth. For Ihb purpose, he wtt 
in 177^« appointed one of the committee ordered by the general asseinbly (the highest 
ecclesiastical authority in Scotland) and took a veiy active part in tiicir proceedings, not 
only revising and in^proving some of the old verMons» but addmg others of his own 
composition. Tiiis collection of Translations and Parapbras^^ was published in 17^^ 
under the sanction of the general assembly. 

About two years before this .publication appeared, he had piepMred a coarse of 
lectHres on the Philosophy ^of History, and had on. this occasion consuUed Drs.Ilobetl- 
8on, Blair, Carlisle, and other emment men connected with the university of £dinb«rgb^ 
who seemed liberally uiclined to promote his Miccess* The first request, however, 
which he had to make happened not to be within thehr power. He desured M us# 
of a jroom in the college lor the delivery of his lectures, but by the Btatutes no indul* 
geuce of that kmd can be granted to persons leaching or lectonng on subjects ftv 
which r^ular professors are abeady ai^inted. He then hined a cMpel in wUdk 
be delivered his first course of Jectores in 1779-8Q» atid his audilo<9, jf aot «eiy iraiief 
rous, were of that kind whose report was of great eonaeqnenoe te his fiMse. In his 
second course, he had a lar^r aoditory, and attiaoted so much notifte^ that ke eater- 
tained very sanguine hopes of being promoted to the .professonhip of bist^iy. which 
became vacant about' tfais tiniie. - 

Here, liowever, an obstacle presented itsdf which he had not foreseen, andinhkh 
bis friends could not remove. It had been the invariable practice ef the patoons to 
present to this office a member of the facalty of advocates, and hi alftie praent iastanot 
their choice fell upon Mr. Fraser Tjftkr, since lord Woodhauseleiw « gentknan wiiesc 
talents, 4iad talents been the criterion, Binst twve exckided aU ca w pctiliea.— Wbeihar 
owmg to Umb appodntment; or to the decay of pvbliek cumeify. Lagan's kctaifea men 
110 longer encouraged; biitin 178U faepubliilMdanaBalyria^f Aea^*ealMed» fib- 
meats of the Philosephy of History, and soon after one Satire tetaie in the Attn «f 
an Essay on the Manners ^ Asia. Solkaiaie ftramaUraiMaifad^ yd ' 



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LIFE OP LOGAN. 51 

tleciiivepmofs of encouragement which cocild justify his puUishmg the whole coarse^ 
<«9 he prohabiy intended. 

In the Mnie year appeared his volume of Poems, nvhich were so engerly bought up, 
: a second «<lition 'became necessary within a few montlis. Such -popularity induced 
bim ko coniplcle a tragedy which he had been for some lime preparing, entitled Ru- 
•aamede, and ^bunded upon the history of the great charter. This tragedy was ac- 
cepted by the manager of Covent Garden theatre, but was interdicted by the licenser 
of tile ata^e, as containing pcflitical allosions That were improper. It was printed, how- 
ewer, ia 17837 and afterwards acted on the Edinburgh theatre, but met with no extra- 
ordinary applause cither in the closet or on the stage. In Ihis -attempt, indeed, the 
author seems to liave 'inistidren bis talents. In Scotland, his biographer informs us, he 
bad to ancoantertbe general prejudices of fbat country against the interference of the 
"dergy in tbeatricd coticemfi. 

These disf^poiiitments, we are Ic^td, ** preyed with pungent keenness upon a mitul 
moomiMnA^ susceptible.'' ** liis temper," it is added ** was still further fretted 'by 
tiie unabra^ 'wfaich some Of his parish liad unjustly taken at his engaging in studies 
fowi||B to bis profession, and which <Ahers, with more reason, had conceived on ac- 
caunt ^ oertain deviations from the propriety and tlecorum of his clerical character, 
thou^ nat-afew of them were sufficiently liberal hi their aHowances for irregularities 
which could only be attributed to inequality of spirits and irritability of nerves.'*' 

This vindication is specious, but will not l)ear examination. There could surely be 
fN> ^reat injustice in ^^mplaimng of studies which diverted bun irom his profession, a 
p ff s fco B i oii which be had voluntarily chosen, and in which lie was liberally settled ; or 
of irregularities wfaicl unfitted bim to perform its dolies, and obliged him at last to 
eonpeund lor his inability or neglect by retiring upon a small annuity. Yet such was 
tlie case, and with this annuity, tHr with the promse of 'I , he came to London in 17Sb*» 
and for some time subsist^ by furnishing articles hx the English Review, and perhaps 
other periodical publications. He wrote also a pamphlet, entitled A Review of tha 
principal Charges against Mr. Hastings, which was a very able and eloquent vindi- 
catioo of that gentleman ; and probably appeared in that light to the publick at large, 
for 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 
witness. His health had been for some time broken, and he died at bis apartments 
m Mailborough-street, Dec. 28, 17S8, in the fortieth year of his age. 

Notwithstanding his failings, it is with pleasure we copy the following passage from 
the Life prefixed to the late edition of his poems. 

•* The end of Logan, was tMy Christian. When he became too weak to hold a 
lMH>k, he employed hb time in hearing such young persons as visited him read the 
Scriptures. His conversation turned chiefly on serious subjects, and was most affect- 
mg and instructive. He foresaw and prepared for the approach of death, gave direc- 
tions about his funeral with the utmost composure, and dictated a distinct and judi- 
cious will, app<Mnting Dr. Donald Grant, and bis ancient and steady friend Dr. Robert- 
ion, bis executors, and bequeathing to them his property, books, and MSS. to be con- 
verted into money, for the payment of legacies to those relations and friends, who had 
the strongest claims upon bis affectionate remembrance in his dying moments.'' 



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i2 LIFE OF LOGAN. 

Dr. Robertson accordingly prepdired a volume'of his Sermons* wfiich was pubBshod 
in 1790, and a second in tlie fciilowing year. Tbey are in general elegant and per- 
spicuous, bnt occasionally burst into passages of the declamatory kind» which, how- 
ever, are perhaps not unsuitable to the warmth of pulpit oratory. They have been 
uncommonly successful, tlie fi flh edition having made its appearance in 1 8()7« He 
left several other manuscripts which were once intended for publication. Among these 
are his Lectures on History, and three or four tragedies. 

In 1 805« a new edition of his poems was published at Ediuburgh and London, to 
which a Life b prefixed by an* anonymous writer. From this the facts contained in 
the "present more succinct sketch have been borrowed. 

Logan deserves a very high rank among our minor poets. The chief character of 
his poetiy is the pathetic, and it will not perhaps be easy to produce any pieces from 
the whole range of English poetry more exquisitely tender and pathetic than IJie 
Braes of Yarrow — ^Th§ Ode on the death of a young Lady» or A Visit to the Country 
hi Autumn — The Lovers, seems to assume a higher character; the opening lines, 
spoken by Harriet, rise to sublimity by noble gradations of terroiir, and an accumula- 
tion of images which are, with peculiar felicity, made to vanish on 4he appearance of 
her lover. In the whole of Logan's ]X)ems, are passages of true poetic spurit and sen- 
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 attributed 
to him, indicates powers that might have appeared to advantage in a regular poem 
of narration and description. His sacred pieces are allowed to be 6f the inferior 
kind, but they are inferior 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 he fails where Watts and others have failed before hing and wbere 
Cowper only lias escaped without injury to his general character. 



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POEMS 



OF 



JOHN LOGAN, 



ODE 

TO THE CUCKOa 

TJAIL, beaateoai ctranger of the grwt ! 

^'' TboD nMstentfer of Spring I 

Nov Heaven repein thy raral seat, , 

And woods thy weloome lin^. 
What time th^ daisy decks the green. 

Thy certain voice we hear ; 
Hilt thou a star to guide thy path. 

Or niait tiie roiUng year i 
Mfchtfol visitant ! with thee 

1 hail the tune of flowers, 
Aod bear the sound of music sweet 

From birds mmong the bowers. 
The ichool4M7y, wandering thro' the wood 

To poll the primrose gay, 
ftsrts, the new voice of Spring to hear, 

And imitates thy lay. 
What time the pea puts on the blooia 

Thou fliest thy vocal vale, 
Aa aonual jroest in other laodSj^ 

Another Spring to hail. 
S»wt bird ! thy bower is ever green, 
' Thy sky is ever clear j 
Thoa hast no sorrow in thy song. 

No winter in thy year ! 

could I fly, rd fly with thee I 
We'd make, with Joyful wing, 
Onr annual visit o'er the globe, 
(oftheS^ing. 



SONG. 

THE BRAES OF YARROW. 

" Tot braes were bonny, Yarrow stream $ 
When first oa them I met my lover; 

Thy braes how dreary. Yarrow stream \ 
Wbea mnr thy wafet bis body CNyvar I 



For ever vow, O Yarrow stream ! 

Thou art to me a stream of sorrow ; 
For never on thy banks shall I 

Behold my love, the flower of Yarrow* 
" He promised me a milk-white steed. 

To bear me to his father's bowers ; 
He promi^ me a little page, 

To 'squire roe to his father's towers ; 
He promised me a wedding-ring,—^ 

lite wedding-day was flx'd to morrow ;— 
Now he is wedded to his grave, 

Alas, his watery grave, in Yarrow I 
" Sweet were his words when last we met{ 

My passion I as freely told him I 
Clasp'd in his arms, 1 little thought 

That I should never more behold him ! 
Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost; 

Jt vanish'd with a shriek of sorrow ; 
Thrice did the water-wraith ascend, 

And gave a doleful groan thro' Yarrow I 
** His mother from the window look'd. 

With all the longing of a mother; 
His little sister weeping walk'd 

Tlie green-wood path to meet her brothers 
They sought him east, they sought him west^ 

They sought him all the forest thorough ; 
They only saw the cloud of night. 

They only heard the roar of Yarrow ! 
" No longed from thy window look. 

Thou hast 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 thoroagh|r 
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'll seek thy body in the stream, 

And thai with thee I'll sleep in Ymmm^ 



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^4 



LOGAN'S POEMS. 



The tear did nercr leate ber cheek. 
No other youth became her maiTow ; 

$be ibund his body in the stream, 

And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow. 



Ot>E 
ON THE DEATH OF A YOCNG LADY. 

The peace of ^Heaven attend thy shade. 

My early friend, my favourite maid ! 

"When life was new, companions iray, 

We hail'd the morning of oar day. 

Ah, with whftt joy did' I behold 

The flower of beauty fair unfold ! 

And fear'd no htorni t> l-.l-i-^tthy bloom, 

Or bring thee to an early tomb ! 

Untimely gone ! for ever fled 

The ro-cs of the cheek so red j 

Th' aficetion uarm, the temper mild, 

The sweetness that in soitow stnii'd. 

Alas ! the check where beauty .2:low'd, - 

The heart ** here sooJneas overflowed, 

A clod amid the valley lies, 

And '' du&t to dn&t^' the mouroer>cri«s. 

O from thy kindrc«d early torn. 

And to thy grave (mtvn^ly borne I 

Vanish'd for ever from mv view, 

1'hou sister of my soul, adieu ! 

Fair, with my first ideas LwinM, 

Thine image oft will meet my mind ; 

And, while remembrance brings thee near, 

Aflfection sad will drop a tear. 

How oft does sorrow bend the head. 

Before we dwell amon? the dead ! 

Scarce in the j-ears of manly prime, 

Tvc often wept the wrecks of time. 

What tragic tears-bedew the eye ! 

What deaths we suffer ei*e we die ? 

Our broken friendships we deplore. 

And loves of youth that are no more ! 

No after -friendship e*er can raise 

Th' endearments of our early days; 

Ami ne'er tlie 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 cf fancy cares- contml. 

And mtir the beauty of the soul. 

Vers'd in the commerce of deceit, 

How soon the heart forgets to beat ! 

The bl<x>d runs cold at interest's call : — . 

They look with equal eyes on alL 

Then lovely Nature is expoll'd, 

And Friendship is romantic held ; 

Then Pnidence comes with hundred eyes : 

'ITie veil is rcnt^— the vision flics. 

The dear illusions will net last ; 

The era of enchantment *9 past j 

The wild romance of life is done ; 

1'he real history i^ begun. 

The sallies of the soul are o'er, 

The feast of Aua^y is no more; 

And ill the banquet is siipply'd 

By form, by gravity, by prides 



Ye gods ! whatever ye withhold, 
I^t my affections ne'er grow old ; 
Ne'er may the human glow depart. 
Nor Nature yield to frigid Art 1 
Still may the generous bosom burn, 
Tho' doorn'd to bleed o'er hearty's urn ; 
And still the frientlly faoe appear, 
Tho* naoititcuUl witii a tender tear ! 



ODE 

TO WOMEN. 

Ye virgins ! fond to be admir'd. 
With raighty race of conquest fir'd, 

And universal stiray ; 
Who heave tli' uncover'd bosom high, 
And roll a fond, invitinfr eye. 

On all the circle gay ! 
You miss the fine and secret art 
Xo win tht' castle of tiie heart, 

For which you all contend j 
The coxcotnb tribe may crowd your trains 
But you will never, never gain 

A lover, or a friend. 
If this TQur passion, this your pmise. 
To shine, to dazzle, and to bla^e. 

You may b^ call'd divine : 
But not a youth beneath the sky 
Will say in secret, witli a sigh, 

" O were' that maiden mine !" 
You marshal, brilliant, fixtnx tlie box, 
Fans, feathers, diamonds, castied lockf^ 

Your ma^a:;ine of arms ; 
; But 'tis the sweet soquester'd walk, 
JThe whispering hour, the tender talk, 
I That gives your genuine channs. 
The nympb-like robe, the natural gnc^ 
The smile, the native of the face, 
I Refinement without art ; 
I The eye where pure affection beams, 
' The tear from tenderness that streams. 

The accents of the heart ; 
' Tlie trembling frame, the living cheek. 
Where, like the morning, blushes break 

To CI imson o'er the breast ; 
The look whero sentiment is seen, 
Fme passions moving o'er the mien. 

And all the soul exprest : 
Your beauties these : with these you shinei 
And reign on high by right divine, 

ll\e sovereigns of the world ; 
Then to your court the nations flow ; 
The Muse with flowers tbp path will strew. 

Where Venus' car is hurl'd. 
From dazzling deluges of snow, 
From summer noon's meridian glow. 

We turn our aching eye. 
To Nature's robe of vernal screen, 
To the blue-curtain all serene. 

Of sin autuoiaal tky. 
The favourite tree of beauty's qtieen^ 
Behold the myrde^a modest- green. 

The vu^-oflhe^rove ! 



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HYMN TO THE SiJN, ^ . , . ODE IN SPRING. 



» 



Soft firatt Ibe circlel of her star. 
The tender turtles draw the car 

Of VeoDS and of Lore. 
Hie fro«|afc dam invites' the eye , 
See Boming gradual paint the sky 

With pufple and with gold ! 
See Spring appftiach with sweet delay ! 
Scc iMcebiMLi open to the ray. 

And leaf by leaf uufoU! 
We lore th* aUoriog line of grace. 
That leads the eye a wanton chase. 

And let« the fancy rove ^ 
Tbe walk of Beanty ever benda^ 
Aad still begins, but never endf 

The labyrinth of Love. 
At times, to veil is to reveal, 
AaA t» display is to c loceal ;. 

MystetkMB ave your laws- ! 
The Tisioii finer than the view ; 
Her landscape Nature never dieir 

3o Ur as Fancy draws. 
A beaot J, carelessly betni>'*d, 
EnaiDoura more, than if duplay'd 

All woman's charms were given ; 
Aad, o*er the bosom^s vestal white. 
The gauze appean a robe of light. 

Thai T^s, yet opens. Heaven. 
See vogiQ Eve, with, gracea hhmd 
Fredi blooming from her Makei^s hand,. 

In orieal beauty beam ! 
Pair on the river-masghi hnd^ 
She knew not that her image madm 

Tbe ai^l in the stream, 
atia ancieiit Eden blooms your owitf 
Bat artleas innoceKse alone 

Secares the heavenly post'; 
Far if, hnnath an ai^'s mien. 
The serpent's tortuous train is seen. 

Our Paradise is lost 
Xatnie, Nature, tiune the charm ! 
Thy cokmrs woo, thy features warm. 

Thy accents win the heart 1 
ftrwian paint of every, kind 
Tbat scsins the body or tbe mind, 

ProdaJnifi the harlot^s art 
TW ndoight minstrel of the grove^ 
Who still renews the hymn of love^ 

Aad wooa the wood to hear ; 
Ebdws sot the sweetness of his straiD, 
Sor that, above the tnnefUl train. 

He charms the lovei's ear. 
The atme of Veona, heavenly-fine, 
h Xafeuc^ handy-work diving 

And not the w^ of Art; 
And they who wear it never koov 
To what enchanting chacm they oivt 

The empire of the heart 



• €6SIAN>3 

HYMIVTO THESW. 

O TMD whose beams the seft^it VjuiK uniff 
Ki^erthe^,aiaifiifetefoCthaday! 
OSw! what fiNvCnm^hiilvsm human eye% 
S^pte thy code ronMl te Sit«Mt ikM^ 



For ever burning, and for ever bright. 
With Heaven's ^ure (ire, and everlasting light \ 
What awful beauty m thy face appcai« ! 
Immortal youth, beyond tbe power of year^i ! 

When gloomy darkness to thy rcign' renigns. 
And from the gates of morn tliy glory shines, 
llie con5<r.oas stars are pat to sudden flight, ^ 

And all the planets hide their heads in night ; 
The queen of Ileaveo f«iroakcs th' ethereal plain^ 
To sink ingloribns in Uk3 western main. 
1'he clouds refulgent deck Uiy golden throac,. 
High in the Heavens, immortal and alone ! 

Wlio can abide the hri.?htncss of thy face ! 
Or who attend thee in thy rapid race ! 
I'he mountain oaks, like their own leaves decay ; 
Themselves the moaiitains wear wiih age away; 
The boundless main that rolls from land to land,- 
Lessens at times, and leaves a waste of sand ; 
The silver Moon, ret^ulgent lamp of night. 
Is lost in Heaven, and emptied of her light { 
But thou for evet sbalt endure the same. 
Thy light eternal, and un^peat thy flame. 

When tempests with their train impend. on high. 
Darken the day, and load the labouring sky ; [dire. 
When Heaven's wide convex glows with lightninga 
All ether flaming, and all Earth on tire : {rolls. 
When loud and long the deep-mouth'd thunder 
And peals on peals redoubled read tbe poles ; 
If from the opening clouds thy form appears. 
Her wonted charm the face of Nature wears ; 
Thy beauteous orb restores departed day. 
Looks from the sky, and laughs the storm away. 



aD£ 



WRITTEN IN SPRING, 

No longer hoary Winter reigns, 

No longer binds the streams in chains. 

Or heaps with snow the meads ; 
Array'd with robe of rainbow-Hlye, 
At last the Spring appears on higl^ 
And smiling over earth and sky. 

Her new creation leads. 

• 

The snows confess a warmer ray. 
The loosen'd streamlet loves to stmy. 

And echo down the dale ; 
The hills uplifV their summita green. 
The val^ more verdant spread between^ 
The cuckoo in the wood uesee^ 

Coos ceaseless to the gale. 
The rainbow arching woos the ej9 
With all the colours of the sky 

With aH the pride of Spfing $ 
Now Heaven descends in simny sho wo w^ 
Tlie sudden fields put on the flowem. 
The green leaves wave upon tbe bowers^ 

And birds begin ta sing. 
The cattle wander hvthc wood, 
And find the wanton venriant food, 

Beside the well known rills; 
Blithe in the sun the shepherd swain 
Like Pan attnnes the fasbmr stnun. 
While many echoes send agam 

The music of the hillsb 
At eve, tbe pnnmae path oloBg, 
The milkmaid shortens with w aoog. 



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I« 



LOGANS POEMS. 



Her.aoriteiywtfjr; 
She sees the Fajri«8 with their qtieen# 
Trip hand-inrhand the circled green. 
And hears them raise at tftnes, unseeD, 

The ear-enchanting lay. 
Maria, come ! now let us rove, 
Now gather garlands in the grove. 

Of every new-sprung flower ; 
"WefU hear the warhlings of the wood. 
We'll trace the windings of the flood j 

conw, thon fairer than the bud 

Unfolding in a shower t 
I'air as the lily of the vale, 
That gives its bosom to the gale 

And opens in the sun ; 
And sweeter than thy favourite 6of€, 
iTie Venus of the vernal grove. 
Announcing to the choirs of love, ¥ 

Their time of bliss begun. 
Now, now thy spring of life apjAars, 
Fair in the morning of thy years, 

And May of beauty crown'd : 
Now vernal visions meet thine eyes, 
Poetic dreams to fancy rise, 
And brighter days hi better ski^ ;-— 

Elysium blooms around. 
Now, now»s the morning of thy day 3 
^ut, ah ! the morning fi\e% away. 

And youth is on the wing 5 
Tis Nature's voice, " O pull the rose^ 
Now while the bud in beauty blows. 
Now' while the opening leaves diaclose 

The incepse of the Spring !" 
l^'Tiat youth, high favoured of the skies. 
What youth shall win the brightest prize 

That Nature has in store ? 
Whose conscious eyes shall meet with thine ; 
Whose arms thy yielding waist entwine ; 
Who, ravish'd with thy charms divine, 

Requires of Heaven no more i 

Not happier the primieval pair, 

When new-made Earth, supremely fair, 

Smil'd on her virgin Spring ; 
When all was fair to God^s own eye, ^ 
When stars consenting sung on high. 
And all HeaveqHt chorus made the tkj 

With halleli^ahs ring. 
Devoted to the Muses* choir, 

1 tune the Caledonian lyre 

To themes of high renown :^-> 
No other theme than yon I '11 chuse. 
Than you invoke no cither Muse : 
Nor will that gentle hand refuse 

Thy bard with bays to crown. 
Where hiHs b^ storied streams ascend. 
My dreams and waking wishes tend 

Poetic ease to woo ; 
Where Fairy fingefk curl the grofve. 
Where Grecian spirits round me lovt. 
Alone enamoiir'd with the love 

Of Nature and of yon! 



SONG. 

Tub day is departed, and itMind from the cloud 
Tbe Moon in her beauty appears; ^ 



The voice of the lugbtingale waibles alouA 

The music of love hi our ears : 
Maria, appear ! now the season so sweet 

With the heal of the heart is in tane ; 
The time is so tender for lovers to meet 

Alone by the light of the Moon. 
I canhot when present unfold what I feel, 

I sigh — can a lover do moie ? 
Her name to the shepherds 1 never reveal. 

Yet 1 think of her all the day o'er. 
Maria, my k)ve !. do you long for the grove } 

Do you si^b for an interview soon \ 
Does e'er a kind thought run on me as yoa iwr« 

Alone by the light of the Moon ! 
Yoiir name from the sheperds whenever I hear 

My bosom is all ki a glow ; 
Your voice when it vibrates so sweet thro' mine ea 

My heart thrills^my eyes overflow. 
Ye powers of the sky, will your bounty divine 

Indulge a fond lover his boon ? 
Shall heart spring to heart, and Maria be mm^ 

Alone by the light of Uie Moon ? 



ODE ' 
TO SLEEP. 

In vain I court till dawning light 

The coy divinity of night ; 

Restless, from side to side I turn. 

Arise, ye musings of the mom ! 

Oh, Sleep ! tho' bantsh'd from those cyH, 

In visions fair to Delia rise ; 

And o'er a dearer form difiuse 

Thy healing balm, thy lenient flews. 

Blest be her night as infant's rest, ' 

Lull'd on the fond maternal breast, 

Who, sweetly. playful, smiles in sleep. 

Nor knows that he is bom to weep. 

Remove the terrours of the night, 

The phantom-forms of wild affirigfat, , 

The shrieks from precipice or flood. 

And starting scene that swfms with bloods 

Tiead her aloft to blooming bowers. 

And beds of amaranthine flowers, 

Ami golden skies and glittering streams, 

That paint the paradise of dreams. 

Venus ! present a lover near. 

And genUy whisper in her ear 

His wdes, who, lonely and forlum. 

Counts the slow clock from night till <nom.. 

Ah ! let no portion' of my pain, 

Save just a tender trace, remain; 

Asleep consenting to be kind. 

And wake with Dsphnis in her mind. 



ODE 

TO A YOTJNQ LADY. 

Mabu, bright with beauty's glofw. 
In conscious gaiety you go 

The pride ^all fhe Park .* 
Attracted groupes in silence gaze. 
And soft behind you hear the praise 

And whiqper of the tpark. 



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ODE TO A HAN OF LETTERS. 



In WwoejH wiff chariot whM'd, 
Ton nMk» the circle of the wgrki. 

And diDCe a dizzy round: 
The maids and kindling youths behold 
Yua triumph o^er the envious old. 
The queen of beauty crown'd. 
Where'er the beams of Fortune blaze. 
Or Fashion's whispering zephyr plays. 

The inject tribe attends ; 
Gay^littering thro' a summer's day« 
The s«lkej myi iads melt away 

Before a Sun descends. 
Divocc'd from elegant delight, 
The vulgar Venus holds her night 

An alien to the skies ; 
Her bosom breathes no finer fire, 
Ko radiance of diTtne desire 
Illumef responsive eyes. 
Oods ; shall ft sordid sou of Earth 
ynfi il it m form of heavenly birth. 

And ravish joys divine ; 
Aa M^l bless unconscious arms ? 
The cirrlc of surrendered charms 
Uohallowed hands entwine ? 
The absent day; the broken dream ; 
The viaioa wild ; theaudden sereamii 

Teaia that unbidden flow 1~ 
Ah ! let DO seoe^ of griefe profound 
Tbat beauteous hosom ever wound 

WUh unavailing woe ! 
Tbe wild enchanter Youth beguiles. 
And Fasicy's fhiry landscape smiles 

With more than Nature's bloom $ 
The spring of Eden paints your bowen, 
CasettHig suns your proroisM hours 

With golden light illume. 
A baad advancing strikes the bell t 
That KMmd dissolves the magic spell. 

And all the charm is goael 
7te wiasonBry landscape flies : 
At oooe th* aerial music dies; 
In wilds you walk akMie. 
However the wnid of Fortune blowi^ 
Or sadly-severing fate dispose 

Our everlasting doom ; 
lin|in'aaioia never uiit before, 
Aad tiaiap ft rt s to return no more, 
'Will hauot me to the tomb ! 
Jf y Ood ! the pangs of Nature past. 
Will e*er a kind remembrance last 

Of pleasures sadly sweet ? 
Gaa love assume a calmer name ? 
Mj eye* with friendship's angd-flame 
An angel's beauty meet ? 

Ah ! riMuU that first of finer forms 
]la(|aire, thro' life's impending stonn^ 

A nympathy of soul ; 
The loved Msria of the mind 
WiU nesid me, oa the wings of wind^ 

To Indus or the Pole. 



ODB 
TO A MAN OF LETTEB^ 
liO^ Wiater*s hoar domhuoii patt ! 



The fiend of Nature flies ; 
Breathing the spring, the zefriiyn play. 
And re-inthron'd the loid of day 

Resumes the golden skies. 
Attendant on the genial hours. 
The voluntary shades and flowers 

For roraij lovers spring ; 
Wild choirs unseen in concert join. 
And round Apollo's rustic shrine 

Tlie sylvan Muses sing. 
The finest vernal bloom that blows. 
The sweetest voice the forest knows. 

Arise to vanish soon ; 
The rose unfolds her robe of iight^ 
And Philomela gives her night 

To Richmond and to Junot 

With bounded ray, and transient grace. 
Thus, Varro, holds the human race 

Their pHce and hour assigned ; 
Loud let the venal trum'pet sound. 
Responsive never will rebound 

Th^ ecbu of mankind. 

Yon forms divine that deck the sphere. 
The radiant rulers of the year, 

Confess a nobler hand ; • 

Thron'd in the majesty of mom. 
Behold the king of day adorn 

Hie skies, the sea, tbe land. 
Nor did th' Almighty raise the sky, 
Nor hang th' eternal lamps on high. 

On one abode to sbioe ; 
The circle of a thousand suns 
Extends, while Nature's period runs 

The theatre divine. 
Thus some, whom smiling Nature hails 
To sacred springs, and chosen vales. 

And streams of old renown ; 
By noble toils and worthy scars* 
Shall win their mansion 'mid tbe stflrs. 

And wear th' immortal crown. 
Bright in tbe firmament of Fame 
The lights of ancient ages flame 

With never setting ray. 
On worlds unfound from history torn. 
O'er ages deep in time unliom. 

To pour tbe human day. 
Won from negleeted wastes of tuoae, 
Apollo hails his fairest clime. 

The provinces of mind ; 
An Egypt ^ with eternal towers, , 
See Montesquieu redeem the houn^ 

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 hic% 
And Homer with his hero vies 

In varied paths to feme 
The orb which nil'd thy natal night 
And usher'din a greater light 

Than sets tbe pole on fire, 
With'undiminish'd lustre crown'd. 
Unwearied walks th' eternal round. 

Amid the heavenly quire. 

> The finest provinces of F^ypt, gained 
neglected waste. 



ftom^ 



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5*- 

Proud in triMOiphal cbariot burPd, 
And crown'd the mafiten of the wodd. 

Ah ! Ict'uot PhiIip'»S(Biy 
His soul in Syrian softness dcowQpd, , 
His brows with Persian garlands bound, 

The race of pleasure run ! 

With crossing thoughts Alcides prest» 
The awful goddess thus<addrcfis>d. 

And pointing to the prize : 
" Behold the wreath of glory shine! 
And mark the onward path dlvino 

That opens to the skies ! 
*' The heavenly 6re must ever hnro^ 
The hero's step must never tam 

From yon sublime abodes : 
Long must thy life of labours piOT» 
ki last to die the son of Jove, 

And min^e with the gods." 



THE LOVERSt 
A POEM. 

tlie loven, in the'follawiDg poem, were descended 
of hoi^s that had been long at varianca The 
lady is first introduced as leaving her father's 
house, and venturing out in the darkness of the 
night to meet w[ith her lover. They meet at 
the appointed hour. The rest of the dialogue 
passes in the chariot. 

HARRIET. 

'Tis midnight dark : *tis silence deep ; 

My father's house is hush'd in sleep j 

In dreams the lover meets his bride. 

She sees her lover at her side ; 

The mourner's voice is now supprcst,. 

A while the weary are at rest : 

'Tis midnight dark ; 'tis silence deep $ 

I only wakC;, and wake to wcop. 

The window 's drawn, the ladder wait?, 

I spy no watchmap at the giitc»T- 

No tread re-echoes thro* the ball, 

No shadow move$ along the wail. 

I am alone. 'Xis dreary night,-*^ 

O come, thou partner. of my flight! 

Shield me from darkness, from allinlis ; 

O 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 terrouTs of (be night are roand ; 

A sad mischance my fears forebode^ 

The demon of the ^k 's abroad, 

And lures, with apparition dire. 

The night-struck man- thru' flood and fiise.. 

The howlet scrc«msiU>hoding srands^ 

The spirit walks unholy^ rounds; 

The wizard's hour eclipaang voWtr ; 

The shades of Hell usurp the poles j. 

The Moon retires ; the Hoav'n depaitsi-^ 

From opening Earth a. spectre staiiK: 

My spirit dies — aw«y- my. fears. 

My love, my life^my lowl onnaamf 



LOGANS POEMl 



T come; I comtSi mf lore; my. Ufo I 
Aiid Nature's deartst name, my wife,! 



Ix>ng have I lov'd thee ; loiig have sought | 
And dangers brav'd- and battles ibugbt ; 
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 loviily bride ! my consort, come ! 
The rapid chariot rolls thee home. 

HARRIET. 

I fear to go— I dare not stay. 

Look back. — I dare not look tbnt war. 

REKRY. 

No erll ever shall betide 
My love, while 1 am at her side. 
ho ! thy protector and thy frieoil ; 
The arms that fold tbee wdl defend. 



Still beats my bosom with alarms : 
I tremble while I'm in thy arms ! 
What will impassioned 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 lonl; 
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 ! — to thy.arms I fall, 
My friend ! my husband ! and my aM ' 
Alas ! what hasards may I run ? 
Shouldst thou,forsake me— I'm aadone. 



My Harriet, dissipftte thy fears, 

And let a husbs^id w^pe thy tears'; 

For ever join 'd our f«*tes oombinv. 

And I am yours, and ysm are mtnei 

The fires the firmament thai iwidy 

On this d«{voted head deseend,. 

If e'er in thought from tbee 1 rowe, 

Or love thee less than now I love I 

Altho' our fath<*rs have been foes. 

From hatred stronger love aixise ; 

From adverse briar^ 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 one stock, they grow. 

In union springi in beauty blow. 

BAaaitT. 
My heart believes my lore ; but still 
My boding mind pvesageaill : 
For luckless e^erwaa-oui: love,. 
Dark as the sky that hung above.. 
While we embrac'd, we ahoole witkfeMa( 
And with our kis^ mingled taum: 
We met with murmurs and with sighs^ 
And parted still with watery eyes. 
An unforeseen and fatal hand 
Cross'd all the measures love had plann'd $ 
Intrusion marr'd the tender hour*. 
A demon stutsd in tjie^bowen 
If, like the past, the fiilmtt mm^ 
And my dark day is but | 



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A TALE. 



09 



What ckMiii mky hang above my bead ! 
Wh*t taas may I have yet to shed ! 

uaNKY. 

O do not wound that gentle breast; 

Nor &iiik« with fancied ills opprost; 

F^r MWtaeas, sweetness, all, tbou art, 

AikJ lore is virtue in thy heart. • 
Tbat boiom tie*er shall heave again 

B It tii the poet's tender strain ; 
And never more thefe eyes overflow 
But fur ftr hapless icAcrs wo9, 
Ijia^ on tlw ocean tompcst-tost. 
At last »c gain the happy Coast j 
And safe recount upon tlie shore 
Our ftafierings past and dangers o*er : 
2'^^ scenes ; the woes we wept ercwbile 
Will make our future minutes snoUe : 
When sudden joy from sorrow spring*, 
H j« tlie heart thrills thro* all iU strings f 

UARRI£T. 

My Other's castle springs to sight; 
Ye towere that gave me to the light ! 
O bills ! O Tales ! where I have play'd ; 
Yc woods, that wrapt me in your shade ! 
O scenes Pve often wandered o'er ! 

scenes I shall bi>hoid no more ! 

1 take a long, la^ lm;rering, vi<^ ; 
Ad^a ! my native land adieu ! 

< > father, mother, brother dear t 
O names still uttered with a tear ! 
Tpoa whose knees Fve sat and sroilM, 
Wbrjse griefs my blandishments begoil'd ; 
^iMni I forsake in sorrows-old, 
I Whom I shall never more behold ! 
Fjit-vell, my. friends, a long fticewell, 
TJl time shall toll the funeral Knell > 



Thy friends, thy fstber^s house resign ; 
My friends, my house, my all is thine. 
A«ake, arise, my wedded wife. 
To bigber thoughts and happier lllb ! 
Fx- Usee the marriage i^rast is spread^ 
F«jr thee the virgins deck the bed ; 
The j^ar of Venus shines above, 
Md all thy future life is lova 
Piey rise, the dear domestic hours ! 
Hie May of low unfolds her flowers ; 
Vontb^ beanty, pleasure spread the feast^. 
And friendship sits a constant guest ; 
Jo cbeerfhl psace the mom aacendSy 
In wine and kve the evmiog ends i 
At distance gnmdenr sheds a.ray« 
To gild the evening of our day. 
CannulNal lofe has dearer names. 
And finer ties, and sweeter claims. 
Than e'er onwedded hearts can feel, 
Thao liedded hearts can e^er reveal ; 
Pare, as the charities above. 
Bite the sweet sympathies of love ; 
And closer cords tiian those of life 
Lmte the husband to the wife. 
like clienifas new«.0Dme ftom the skies, 
Heasys and Harriets round us rise ; 
And playingnvanton in the ball; 
W'ah acccQt sweet their parents call ; 



To your fair images I run ; 
You clasp the husband in the son ; 
O how the mother's heart will bound ! 
O how the fiither's joy be cmwn'd ! 



A TALB. 

\ Wheks pastoral Tweed, renown'd in aong^i 

With rapid murmur flows; 
In Caledonia's classic ground. 

The hall of Arthur rose. 
A braver Briton never arm'd 

To guard his nati\'e isle ; 
A gentler friend did never make 

The social circle smile. 
Twice be arose, from rebel rage ^ 

To save the British crown ; 
And in the field where heroes stnuve 

Me won him high renown. 
I But to the plowshare tumM the sword, 

When bloody war did cease ; 
And in the arbour which he rear*d 

He raised the song of peace. 
An only daughter in his age 

SoIacM a father's care ; 
And all the country blest the name 
' Of Emily tlie fain* 

The picture of her mother's youth, 

(Now sainted in the sky) ; 
She was the angel of bis age, 

And apple of his eye. 

Something'unseen o'er all her fbrm 
Did nameless grace impart ; 

A secret charm that won the way 
At once into the heart. 

Her eye the pure ethereal blue. 

Than that did fairer sliow, 
. Whene'er she watch'd a father's look. 

Or wept a lover's woe : 
For now the lover of her youth 

To Indian climes had roved. 
To conquer Fortune's cruel rage. 

And match the maid he loved. 
jHcr voice, the gentle tone of love. 

The heart a captive stole ; 
•*The tender accent of h^ tongue 

Went 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; 
j And make the savage mild : 

But who would give the rose a hue 
Which Nature has not given ? 
! Bat who would tame the nightingale, 
^ Or bring the lark fk-om Heaven ? 



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to 



LOOXirS POEMS. 



Tbe father, %atchiiif bVr lib ehifd. 

The joy of fathen found ; 
And, blest hioiself, he ttretchM hit hftni 

To bless the neighboun nmnd; 
A patriarch in vale of peace. 

To all he gave the law ; 
The good he gnai^ed in their rightH, 

And kept the bad in awe. 
Lord of his own paternal field. 

He lioeral dealt his stoie ; 
And calPd the stranger to his feasl, 

Tlie beggar to his door. 

But, ah ! what mortal knows the hoiijr 

Of fate ? a hand unseen 
Upon the curtain ever rests, 

And sudden shifts the scenk 
Arthur was surety for his friend. 

Who fled to foreign climes. 
And left him to the gT\\ye of law, 

' Tbe victim of his crimes. 
The Sun, thaty rising, saw him lord 

Of hill and valley round. 
Beheld him, at his setting hour, 

Without one foot of ground, 
- Forth from the hall, no longer his. 

He is a pilgrim gone; 
And walks a stranger o'er the fields 

' He lately calPd his own« 
Tbe blast of Winter whistled load 

And shrill thro' tite void hall ; 
And heavy on his hoary locks 

The shoaer of night did fall. 
ClaspM in his daughter's Irembling hand, 
♦ He jouniey'd sad and slow ; 
At times he stopt to look behind, 
, And tears began to flow. 
Wearied, and fiaint, and cold, and wet. 

To shelter he did hie ; 
*' Beneath tlie covert of this rock, 

My daughter, let us die !" 

At midriight, in the weary waste 

In sorrow sat the pair ; 
She chaff 'd his shivering hands, and wrun^ 

The water from his hair. 

The sigh spontaneous rose, the tear 

Jnvolti * .iry flow'd ; 
Ko word of comfort could hhe speak, 

Nor would she weep aloud. 

** In yonder hall my fathers livM, 

In 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 stofe upon the nighL 
•* When there the wanderers of the dark, 

Reposing, ceased to roam ; 
And strangers, happy in the hall. 

Did find themselves at home : 

*■ I little thought that, thus forlorn. 

In desects 1 should bide. 
And have not where to lay the head. 

Amid tbe worid so wide ."f 



A stranger, wandWmg ihroOifik the w«A 

Beheld the hapless pair ; 
Long did he look in silence sad. 

Then shriek'd as in despair* 
He ran, and lowly at the feet 

Of his late lord he fell ; 
" Alas, my master, have I lived 

To bid your house farewel ! 
" But I will never bid adieu 

To him I prized so high : 
As with my master 1 have lived, 

I '11 with my master die. 
" I saw the summer-friend, who shar'd 

The banquet in your hall. 
Depart, nor cast one look behind 

On the forsaken wall. 
" I saw the daily, nightly ^uest 

Tlie changing scene forsake ; 
Nor drop a tear, nor turn his slept 

The long farewel to take : 
" Then to the service of my lord 

I vowM a throbbing heart ; 
And in the changes of your life 

To bear an humble part 
*' Forgive the fond, oflQcious zeal 

Of one that loves bis lord ! 
The new possessor of your field 

A supplia it I implored. 

" I told ihc treachery of your friend* 

The story of your woe. 
And sought his fiivour, when I saw 

His tears begin to flow. 
" I ask'd the hamlet of the hill, 

llie lone, sequestered seat. 
Your chosen haunt and fitvourite bower 

To be your last retreat 
'* I affer'd what was all your own 

The gold I had in store i 
Low at his feet I fell, and wept 

That I could give no more. 
« Your gold is yours, the gen'rous youth 

With gen^e accept said ; 
Your master's be that little fiatd. 

And cheerful be his shed ! 

" Now Heaven has heard my pray«r > I »ve wish*tf 

I could in part repay 
The favours your extended hand 

Bestow'd from day to day, 
" I yet may see a garland green 

Upon the hoary head ; ^ 

Yet see my master blest, before 

I dwell among the dead f " 
In silence Arthur look'd to Heaten, 

And clasp'd his Edwin's hand ; 
The eyes of Emily in tears 

Express^ action bland. 

From opening Heaven the Moon appear'd ; 

Fair was the lace 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 nealr the dawning day. 



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A TALK. 



^J 



Tben a long line of raddy liglit, 

, That qiiiTer'd to and fro, 
Rereal'd their lone retreat, and closed 

The pilgrimage of woe. 
He etKer'd, solemn, slow, and sad. 

The destinM hermitage^ 
A little and a lonely hut. 

To corer hapless age. 
He clasped his daughter ii. his arms, 

Anil kiasM a falling tear; 
^ I have my all, ye gracious powers \ 

J have my daughter here !'* 
A sober banquet to prepare, 

Emilia cheerful goes ; . 
The ftggot blazed, the window glaiicVI« 

The heart of age arose. 
" I would not be that guOty iftaa. 

With all his golden store ; 
Nor change my lot with any wretch. 

That counts his thousands o'er. 
" Now here at last we are at home. 

We can no lower ikil ; 
Low in the cottage, peace can dwell^ 

As in the lordly haU. 
*• The wants of Nature are but few j 

Her banquet soon is spread : 
The tenant of the vale of tears 

Requires but daily bread. 
•* The frmd that grows in every field- 
Will life and health prolong ; 
And water from the spring sufRce 

To quench the thirsty tongue. 
** But all the Indies, with their wealth. 

And earth, and air, and seas, 
Will never quench the sickly thirst. 

And craving of disease. 
" My bumble garden to my hand 

Contentment's feast will yield ; 
And in the reason, harvest white 

Will load my little field. 
* Like Nature's simple children, here, 

WHb Nature's self we >U live« ' 
Aad of the little that is left, 

Bave something still to give. 
" The sad vidssitodes of life 

Long have I leam'd to bear; 
But oh! my daughter, thou ait ne^ 

To aorrovr and to care I 
" How gfaal) that fine and flowery form. 

In silken folds confined, 
plat scarcely faced the summer's gale, 

Endure the wiotery wind ! 
** Ah ! how wiH thoa sustain a skf 

With angry tempest red ! ■ 
flow wiH thoa bear the bitter storm 

That's hanging o'er thy bead I 
*' Whate'er thy justice dooms, O God! 

I take with temper mild ; 
fctoh! rqwy it thousand-fold 

Ja blessings on my child !** 
V Weep not forme, thou lather food!** 

The viigm soli did say ; 
" Could I coatribate to thy peaot. 

0,lvofddbk9«tbeday! 



** The Parent who provides for all 

For us will now provide ; 
These hands bave leam'd the gayer jtftf 

Of elegance and pride : 
** What once amused a vacant hour. 

Shall now the day engage ; 
And vanity shall spread the board 

Of poverty ^nd age. 
5* At eventide, how blithe weMl mee^ 

And, while the faggots blaze» 
Recount the trifles of the time. 

And dream of better days! 
" I'll read the tragic tales of old, 

To noothe a father's woes ; 
I'll lay the pillow for' thy beadj 

And sing thee to repose." 

The fother wept <' Thy wond'TOua hanc^ 

Almighty, I adore ! 
I had not known how blest I was. 

Had I not been so poor ! 
« Now blest be God for whiit is reft 1 

And blest for what is given ! 
Thou art an angel, O my child ! 

With thee I dwell in Heaven !*• 
Then, in the garb of ancient times. 

They trod the pastoral plahi : 
But who describes a summer's day^ 

Or paints the halcyou main } 
One day, a wanderer in the wood 

The lonely threshold prest ; 
Twas then that Arthur's humble noC 

Had first received a guests 

The stranger told his tender tale : 

" I come from foreign climes | 
firom countries red with Indian bloody ^ 

And stain'd with Christian crimes^^ 
'* O may Britannia never hear 

What these sad eyes have seen I 
May an eternal veil be drawn 

That world and this between ! 
" No frantic avarice fired my soul. 

And Heaven my wishes crown'df ■ 
For soon a fortune to my mind 

With innocence I 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 ofthe green. 
** Alas, the change that time had made fc 

My ancient friends were gone j 
Another race possess'd the walls. 

And I was left alone ! 
'* A stranger among strangers, lon( 

I look'd from pew to pew ; 
But not the face ef one old frieaid 

Rose imag'd to my view. 
" The horrid plough had razed the [ 

Where we have often playM ; 
The axe had fell'd the hawthorn tree. 

The achooil-l^y*s waanm •faad*^ 



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«2 

<* One maid, thel>eatity of the vtAc, 

To whom I vow'd my care, 
And gave my heart, had fled away. 

And none could tell, me where. 
" My cares and toils in fomgn climet 

Were for that poerless mai4 ; 
She rose in heanty by my side : 

My toils were all rqiaid. 
** By Indian streams I sat alone, 

While on my native isle, 
And on my ancient friends, I thought, 

And wept the weary while. ^ 

'* Twas she that cheer'd my captive hoan. 

She came in every dream. 
As smiling, on the rear of ni^t. 

Appears the morning beam. 
" In quest of her I wander, wild. 

O'er mountain, stream, and plain ; 
And, if I find her not, I fly 

To Indian climes again.'* 
The father thus began : ** My son. 

Mourn not thy wretched fate; 
For be that rules in Heaven decrees 

This life a mixed state. 
** The stream that carries os along. 

Flows thro' the vale of tears j 
Yet on the darkness of our day. 

The bow of Hoaven appfMirs. 
*' The rose of Sharon, kin.^ of Howen, 

Is fenced with prickles round ; 
Queen of tlie vale, the lily fair 

Among the thorns is found. 
*' £*en while we raise the song, we sigh 

The melancholy while ; 
And> down the face of mortal man. 

The tear succeeds the smile. 
** Nought pure or perfect here is (bond j 

But when this night is o'er,' 
Th* eternal mom will spring on high. 

And we shall weep no more. 
*' Beyond .the dim horizon Ar, 

That bounds the mortal eye, 
A better coimtry blooms to view. 

Beneath a brighter sky.*'— 
Unseen the trembling virgin heard 

The stranger's tale of woe ; 
Then entered as an angel bright 

In beauty's high^ glow. 
Hie stranger rose — he look'd, be gaz'd-«* 

He stood a statue pale ; 
His haart did throb, his cheek did change. 

His faultering voice did &jl. 
At last, <' i»y 'Emily herself 

Alive in all her charms !" 
The father kneePd ; the lovers msh'd 
To one another's arms. 

In speechless ecstasy entnmoed 

Long while they did remain ; 
They glow'd, they trembled, and they sobb'd. 

They wept, and wept afain. 
The fathisr lifted up his hands, 

To bless the 'happy pair ? 
Heaven smiled -en fiii«aRl41ie MovVl, 

And EinilytlK.fiiir. 



LOGAWS POEMS. 



MOKtMIA, 
AN ODE. 

In weeds of sorrow wildly 'dight 
Alone beneath the gloom of night. 

Monimia went tomourn^ 
She left a mother's fond alarms ; 
She left a father's folding arms ; 

Ah! never to retum ! 
The bell had struck the midnight hour. 
Disastrous planets now had power, 

And evil spirits reign'd ; 
The lone owl, from the cloistered isle. 
O'er falling fragments of the pile^ 

Ill-boding prophet, plain'd. 
While down her devious footsteps stray. 
She tore the willows by the way, 

And gazed upon the wave j 
Then raising wild to Heaven her eyes. 
With sobs and broken accent, cries, 

" I'll meet^thee in the grave." 
Bright o'er the border of the sti^m, 
Iliumin'd by a transient Iteam, 

She knew the wonted grove ; 
Her lover's hand had deck'd it fine, 
And roses mix'd wjth myrtles twine. 

To form the bower of love. 
The tuneful Philomela rose, 
And, sweetly-mournful, sung her woes. 

Enamoured of the tree ; 
Touch'd with the melody of woe. 
More tender tears began to flow. 

' " She mourns her mate like me.'* 
** I lov'd my lover from a child. 
And sweet the youthful cherub smtl'd. 

And wanton'd o'er the green ; 
He train'd my nightingale to sing. 
He sptril'd the gardens of the spring. 

To crown me rural queen. 
" My brother died before his day j 
Sad, thro' the church-yard's dreary way. 

We went to walk at eve j 
And bending o'er th' untimely um. 
Long at the monument to mourn. 

And look upon his grave. 
" Like forms funereal while we stand. 
In tender mood he held my hand. 

And laid his cheek to mine ; 
My bosom beat unknown alarms. 
We wept in one another's arms. 

And mingled tears divine. 
" From sweet companion love atx)se. 
Our hearts were wedded by our woes, 

And pair'd opon the tomb ; 
Attesting all the powers above, 
A fond romanoe of fancied love 

We vowed oor days to come. 
" A wealthy lord from Indian skies. 
Illustrious in my parent's eyes, 
Implored a mutual mind ; 
Sad to my chamber I withdrew. 
But Harry's footsteps never flow 

The wonted scene to find. 
" Three nights m dire suspove 1 sat 
Alone i the fourth cnm^^ Wf^h^ 



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ODE IN AtmnkiN , 



fcnt ftom a foreigo shore ;-^ 
* Ho, where thy wandering wishes tend, 
Go, avd OBbnce thy fitther'a fnand. 

Ton never see me more !' 

•* Dopair ! distractioQ ! I obey'd. 
And one ditafder'd moment made 

Ad ever-wretchod wife ; 
Ah ! in the circuit of one Son, 
Heaven ! I was wedded and andooe. 

And desolate for life ! 

*' Apart my wedding fobes I tore» 
And guarded tears now gushing o'er 

Dtstaja'd the bridal bed : 
Wild i invoked the funeral yell, * 
And sought derated now to dwell 

For ever with the dead. 

'* My lord to Indian ditnatea went» 
A letter from my lover sen^ 

Renew d eternal woes ; — 
*' Before my love my last words greet^ 
Wrapt in the weary wtnding-sheet, 

1 in the dust repose ! 

" ' Peihaps your parents have dooeiredy 
Perhaps too rashly I believed 

A tale of treacherous art ; 
Konimia ! could you now behold 
The youth you lov^d in sorrows old. 

Oh! it would break thy heart ! 

*^ * Now in the grave for ever laid^ 
A constant solitary shade, 

Thy Harry hangs o'er thee ! 
For you 1 fled my native sky : 
Loaded with life, for yon I die ; 

My love, remember me 1' 

" Of all the promises of youth, 
The tears of tenderness and truth, 

The throbs that lovers send ; 
The vows in one another's arms. 
The secret sympathy of charms ; 

My God! is this the end !»' 

She said, and rushing from the bower> 
I^enned aougfat in evil hour 

The proooontory steep ; 
Bung o'er the margin of the main, 
Uer fixed and earnest eyeballs strain 

Hie dashing of the deep. 

*" Waves that resound from shore to ihore I 
Rocks kmd rebellowing to the roar 

Of ocean, storm, and wind 1 
Your demental war is tame. 
To that which rages in my frame. 

The battle of the mind !" 

With downcast eye and muang mood, 
A lurid interval she stood. 

The victim of deq»ir ; 
Her anna then tossing to the skies, 
She ponr'd in Nature^ ear her cries, 
"My God! my Either! where!" 

Wild on the summit of the steep 
She ruminated long the deep, 

And felt licr freezing blood; 
Appraachiog feet she heard behind. 
Then swifter than the winged wind 

Sha plosg'd into the flood. 



Her form emerging ^ftoBa ttM^HHwa 
Both parents saw, but could not sa^^ 

The shriek of death arose 1 
At once she sunk to rise no more^' 
And sadly sounding to thci shorQ, 

The parted iiUlowa clofle ! 



009 

wRRTm IV A Tisrr to irb caattmr 
IN ADTUUK. 

Tts past ! No more the gummer hlooiDg 

Asoendmg in the rear, . 
Behold congenial Autumn oomas^ 

The sabbath of the year ! 
What time thy holy whispers breathe^ 
The pensiva evening shade beneath. 

And twilight consecrates the floods; 
While Nature strips her garment gay, ' 

And wears the vesture of decay, 
O let me wander thro* the sounding woodi» 
Ah f well known streams ! Ah ! woitted giOPS^ 

Still pictured in my mindl 
Oh 1 sacred scene of youthful lovev 

Whose image lives behind I 
While sad I ponder 6n the past, 
The joys that must no longer last ; 

The wild'flower strown on Summeifs biec^ 
The dying music of the grove. 
And the last elegies of love. 
Dissolve the sodl, and draw the tender tmrl 
Alas ! the hospitable hall, 

Whare youth and friendship play'4'^ 
Wide to the winds a ruin'd wall 

Projects a death-like shade ! 
The charm is vanish'd from the vales ; 
No voice with virgin-whisper hails 

A stranger to his native bowers : 
No mcAre Arcadian mountains bloom. 
Nor Enna valleys breathe perfume, 
The fancied Eden fadcs-with all its flowers ! 
Compam'onsof the youthful scene. 

Endeared fironir earliest days ! 
With whom I sported on the green. 

Or rov'd the woodland maze ! 
Long-exil'd from your native clime. 
Or by the thunder-stroke of time 

Snatched to the shadows of despair : 
I hear your voices in the wind, 
Your forms m ev'ry walk I find, 
I stretch my arms : ye vanish into air I 
My steps, when innocent and young, 

These fairy paths pursued ; 
And, wandering o'er the wild, 1 sung 

My fancies to.the wood. 
I moum'd the linnet-lover's fate, 
Or turtle fVom her murder'd mate, 

GondemnM the widowM hours -to *wail s 
Or while the mournful vision rose, 
I sought to weep for imaged woes. 
Nor real life believed a tragic tale !' 
Alas ! misfortune's cloud unkfaid 

May Summer soon overcast ; 
And cruel fate's untimely wind 

All human beauty blast ! 



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LOGAN'S POEMS; 



The wrath of Nature smlfcet oar bowen, 
And promiMd fruits, and oherish'd flowet% 

The hopes of life in embryo twestps; 
Pale o'er the ruins of his prime^ 
And desf^te before his time, 
In silence sad the mourner walks and weeps ! 
Relentless power ! whose iated stroke 

O'er wretched man prevails } 
fia 1 lovers eternal chain is broke. 

And friendship's covenaDt fails 
Upbraiding forms ! a moment's eas^-* 
O memory! how shalll appease 

The bleeding shade, the unlaid ghost ? 
What charm can bind the gushing eye ? 
What voice console th' hicessant sigh. 
And everlasting longings for the lost ? 
Yet not oowelcome waves the wood. 

That hides me in its gloom. 
While lost in melancholy mood 

t rouse upon the tomb. 
Their chequer'd leaves the branches shed ; 
Whirling in eddies o'er my head. 

The sadly sigh, that Winter's near : 
The warning voice I bear behind, 
That shakes the wood without a wind. 
And solemn seunds the death-bell of the year. 
Nor wilt I court Lethean streams. 

The sorrowing sen&e to steep ; 
Nor drink oblivion of the themes 

On which 1 love to weep. 
Belated oft by fobled rill. 
While nightly o'er the hallowed htU 

Aenal music seems to mourn ; 
I'll listen Autumn's closing strain ; 
Then woo the walks of youth again, 
j^ pour my sorrows o'er th' untimely urn 1 



HYMNS. 



THE PRAYER OF JACOB, 

O OOB of Abraham ! by whose band 

Thy people still are fed 
Who, thro' this weary pilgrimage. 

Hast all our fathera led ! 
CHir vows, our prayers, we now prttcnt 

Before thy throne of grace ; 
Ck>d of our fathers, be the God 

Of their succeeding race. 
Thro* each perplexing path of life 

Our Wandering footsteps guide. 
Give us by day our daily bread. 

And raiment fit provide. 
O spread thy covering wings around. 

Till all our wanderings cease. 
And at oar fathers' lov'd abode 

Our feet arrive in peaoe. 
Now with the humble voioe of prayer 

Thy mercy we implore ; 
Tbm with the gratefol voice of praise 

Tby goodnev we'll adore. 



THE COMPLAINT OF NATURE, 
" Faw are thy days and full of woe, 

O man of woman bom f ' 
Thy doom is written, dust thou art. 

And Shalt to dust return. 
*' Determined are the days that fly 

Successive o'er thy bead; 
The number'd hour is on the wing. 

That lays thee with the dead. 
'* Alas! the little day of life 

Is shorter than a span; 
Yet black with thousand hidden ills 

To miserable man. 
" Gay is thy morning; flattering hope 

Thy sprightly titep attends ; 
But soon the tempest howls |)ehind. 

And the dark night descends. 
** Before iu splendid hour the cloud. 

Gomes o'er the beam of light; 
A pilgrim in a weary land, 

Man tarries but a night 
" Behold ! sad emblem of thy state. 

The flowers that paint the field ; 
Or trees, that crown the mountain's brow. 

And boughs and blossoms yield. 
<< When chill the blast of Winter blowa^ 

Away the Summer flies, 
The flowers resign their sunny robes. 

And all their beauty dies. 
" Nipt by the year, the forest fades; 

And, shaking to the wind, 
The leaves toss to and fro, and streak 

The wilderness behind. 
" The Winter past, reviving flowers 

Anew shall paint the plain ; 
The woods shall hear the voice of Spring, 

And flourish green again : 
*' But man departs this earthly scene. 

Ah ! never to return ! 
No second Spring shall e'er revive 

The ashes of the urn. 
** Th' inexorable doors of Deatli 

What hand can e'er unfold > 
Who from the cearments of the tqmb 

Can raise the human mould ? 
" The mighty flood that rolls along 

Its torrents to the main. 
The waters lost can ne'er recal 

From that abyss again. 
" The days, the years, the ages, dark * 

Descending down to night. 
Can never, never be redeem'd 
Back to the gates of light. 
" So man departs the living scene. 

To night's perpetual gloom i 
The voice of morning ne'er sbadl break. 
The slumbers ofthe tomb. 

*' Where are our fothers ? whither gone 

The mighty men of old > 
The patriare.hs, prophets, princes, icifw i ^ 

Ir lacred hooka enroU'd i 



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HYMNS. 



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^ Gfloe to tlie restSkig place of nuiii^ 

Hie evertastini^ home, 
Where Sfet past have gone before^ 

Where future aget come." 
Thvs Nature poar'cl the wail of woe. 

And ai|;*d ^her earnest cry $ 
Her voice in agony extreme 

Aao en d ed to the sky. 

tV Almighty beard : then frOm his thrones 

In majesty he rose; 
And from the Heaven, that openM wkle, 

Hk voice in mercy flows. 

"* When mortal man resigns bis breath, 

And fhlls a clod of clay, 
Ihe soal immortal wifigs its flight. 

To never setting day^^ 
*' Picpar'd of old for wicked men 

The bed of torment lies ; 
Tbe just shall enter into bliss 

Imaoital in the skies." 



III. 
TRUST IN PROVIDENCE. 

AuncHTT Father of mankind. 

On thee my hopes remain ; 
ABd when the day of trooble comes, 

I shall not trast in vain. 
Thoa ait our kind preserver, from 

The cradle to the tombj 
iod i was cast upon thy care. 

Even from my mother's womb. 
Id early years thou wast my guide. 

And of my youth tbe friend : 
And as my days began with thee, 

With thee my days shall end. 
I know the power in whom I trust, 

Tbe arm on which I lean ; 
Be vill my Saviour ever be. 

Who has my Saviour been. 
In fbraier time^, when trouble came, 

ThoQ didst not stand a£eir ; 
Scr didst thou prove an absent friend 

Amid the din of war. 

VyGod, vrbo causedst me to hope. 

When life began to beat. 
And wbes a stranger in the vrorld. 

Didst guide my wanderiog feet ; 
TboQ wilt pot cast me off, when-aga 

And evil days descend ; 
IhoQ wilt not leave me in .despair. 

To mourn my latter end. 
Therefore in life I'll trust to thee. 

In death 1 will adore ; 
kfd after death will sing thy praise. 

When time shall be no more. 



IV. 
HEAVENLY WISDOif. 

lAPiT is the man who heart 
lastmctioo's warning voice, 

Aid who celestial Wisdom naJLOi 
His eariy, only choisai 
Ti^ XVIU. 



For she has treasures greater far 

Than east or west unfold, 
And her reward is more secure 

Than is the gain of gold. 
In her right liand she holds to view 

A lensjth of happy years ; 
And in her left, the prize of fame 

Atul honour brigiit 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 wa5's are ways of pleasantness. 

And all her paths are peace. 



V. 

Bebold ! the maintain of the Lord 

In latter days shall rise, 
Above tlje mountains and the hills, 

And draw the wondering eyes. 
To this the joyful nations ronnd. 

All tribes and tongue;*, t,hall flow; 
« Up to the hill of God,»' they'll say, 

" And to his house we'll go.'' 
The beam that shmes on Zion hill 

Shall lighten every land ; 
The Ring who rcigfns in Zion towers 

Shall all the world command. 
No strife shall vex Messiah's reign. 

Or mar the peaceful years, 
To ploughshares soon they beat their swordi. 

To pruuing-hooks their spears. * 
No longer hosts enoonntofing hosts, 

Their millions slain ♦Jcjjiorej 
They hang the trumpet in the hall. 

And study war no more. 
Come then — O come from every laud. 

To worship at his shrine j 
And, walking in the light of God, 

With holy beauties shine. 



VI. 

BiHorn ? th' Ambassador divine. 

Descending from aliove. 
To publish to mankind the law 

Of everlasting love ! 
On him, in rich efiusion ponr'd,- 

The. heavenly 4ew descends; 
And truth divine he shall reveal 

To Earth's remotest ends. 
No trumpet-sound, at his approach. 

Shall strike tlie wondering ears ; 
But still and gentle breathe the voioa 

In' which the God appears. 
By his kind hand the shaken reed 

ShaU raise its falling frame ^ 
The dying embers shall revive, 

And kindle to a flame. 
F 



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«6 

The onward progreis of his zeal 

Shall never Iedow decltoe. 
Till (vMneign 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 saith the Lord, " Thee have 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 flight ; 
The people who in darkness dwell 

Shall hail a glorious light ; ' 
*' The gates of brass shall 'sunder burst. 

The iron fetters iall i 
The promised jubilee of Heaven 

Appointed rise o'er all. 

*' And lo ! presaging thy approach^ 
The heathen temples shake, 

And trembling in forsaken fanes^ 
The iabled idols quake. 

** 1 am Jehovah : I am One : 

My name shall now be known ; 

No idol shall uimrp my praise, / 
Nor mount into my throne.*' 

Lo, former scenes, predicted once, 

Conspicnous rise to view ; 
And future scenes, predicted now. 

Shall be acComplisb'd too. 

Now sing a new song to the Lord I 
Let Earth nis praise resound : 

Te who upon the ocean dwell. 
And fill the isles around. 

O city of the Lord ! begin 

Th€ universal song ; 
And let the scatter'd Tillages 

The joyful notes prolong. 
Let Kedar*! wilderness afar 

Lift up the lonely voice ; 
And let the tenaiitB of the rock 

With accent rode rejoice. 
O from the streams of distant lands 

Unto Jehovah sing ! 
And joyful from the mountains tops 

Shout to the Lord the King ! 
Let all eombtn'd with one accord 

Jehovah's glories raise. 
Till in remotest bounds of Earth 

The nations sound his praise. 



LOGAN'S POEMS. 



vn. 

MsssiAB ! at thy glad approach 

The howling wilds are still ; 
Thy praises fill the lonely waste. 

And breathe from every hilt 
The hidden foantains, at thy call* 

Their sacred stores unlock ; 
Loud in the desert, sudden streams 

Burst living from the rock. 



Tbe incense of the spring aaoendf 

Upon the morning gale : 
Red o*er the hill the roses hloom. 

The lilies in the vale. 
Renew'd, the Earth a robe of light, 

A robe of beauty wears ; 
And in new Heavens a brighter Sun 

Leads on the promis'd years* 
The kingdom of Messiah come 

Appointed times disclose ; 
And fairer in Emmanuel's land 

The new creation glows. 
Let Israel to the Prince of Peace 

Tbe loud hosannah ang ! 
With hallelujahs and with hymns, 

O Zion, hail thy King 1 



VIIL 

When Jesus by the Virgin brought. 

So runs the law of Heaven, 
Was offer'd holy to the Lord, 

And at the altar given ; 
Simeon th6 just and the devout. 

Who, frequent in the fane. 
Had for the Saviour waited long, 

But waited still in vain. 
Came, Heaven-directed, at the hour 

When Mary held her son ; 
He stretched forth his aged arms. 

While tears of gladness run : 

With holy joy upon his face 

Tbe good old father smil'd. 
While fondly in his witheHd anns 

He clasp'd the promis'd child. 
And then be lifted up 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 them close in peaoe! 
The star and glory of tbe land 

Hath now b^n U> shme; 
The mommg that shall gild the globe 

Braikl on these eyesof minel 



IX. 

VVBBan high the heavenly temple stsDd% 
The house of God not made with hands^ 
A great High Priest our nature wean. 
The Patron of mankind appears. 
He who for men in mercy stood. 
And poar'd on Earth his precious blood. 
Pursues in Heaven his plan of grace. 
The guardian God. of human raoe. 
Hio' DOW ascended up on high, 
He bends on Earth a brother's eye,. 
Partaker of the human name, 
He knows the fnilty of oar firame. 



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Al* ECLOGUE. 



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^rfeMow-idfcrcr yet retainf 
A iWli«-fieeliD^ of oiir pains ; 
S&l Kill reneinberB ia the skies. 
B« t^an, aad agonies, and cries. 
\i ^ rj |BM( that rends the heart, 
T* Mao of Sorrows had a part ! 
he sTmiatfaisn in oor {?rief, 
J^ to the sufferer tends relief. 
7*ii boUoeis, therefore, at the tbroM 
b.'. D> make all otir sorrows known, 
kTi iik tbe aids of heavenly power* 
T? bf Ip us in tbe eril boor. 



I -. 



POEMS 

ATTRIBUTED TO 

LOGAN. 

LAiiOK, MBSALCAS, AND MELIBOEVS: 
AN ECLOGUE. 

DAMON. 

Mo from tbe shovV, tbe moniing's rosy light 

f <;ds tbe beanteoMs season to the sight : 
Tif. landscape rises rerdant on the Tiew ; 
Tk^ -istle hills uplift their heads in dew ; 
ne ««any it^eam rejoices in the vale ; 
TV woods with son^ approaching snmmer hail : 
Ttt)stff comes forth among the flow'rs to play ; 
^■< tair hair glitters in the yellow ray. — 
'ifpenk, begin the song ! while, o'er the mead, 
!ocr flocks at will on dawy pastures feed. 
MrM fair Nature, and begin the song ! 
~'t Hoagi of Nature to the swain belang. 
Vaoeqaals Cona's bard in sylvan strains, 
T km bis barp an eqnal prize remains : 
Ha haq>, which loands on all its sacred strings 
Tae lofes of banters, and tbe wars of kings. 



Xqw fleecy donds m clearer skies are seen ; 
1W or is genial, and the earth is green; 
O'a hill and dale tbe flow'rs spontaneous spring ; 
laihiaekfaiids staging now invite to sing. 

MKLIBOaUS. 

^nBky sbow'rs rejoice the springing grain ; 
^-opeoing pea-btooms purple all the plain ; 
1W hedges bkasom white on every band ; 
Mnady harvest seems to clothe the land.. 



WUte o'er the hilt my snowy sheep appear, 
Esehvitb ber lam!^ their shepherd's name they bear. 
1 Ibvc to lead them where tbe daisies spring, 
Asi SB the sunny hill to sit and sing. 



MZLIBOSUS. 



V J fidds are green with clover and with oom; 
Vy locks the bills, and herds tbe vales, adorn* 
I xnA the stream, 1 teach tbe vocal shore, 
i^ woodf, to echo thai « I want no more. " 



UBWALCAS. 

To me the bees their annual nectar yield ; 
Peace cheers my hut, and plenty clothes my field. 
I fear no loss : l give to ocean's wind 
All care away j-r-a monarch m my mind. 

MBCIBOETJS., 

My mind is cheerful as the linnet's lays ; 
Heav»n daily hears a shephercrs simple praise. 
What time I shear my flock, I send a fleece 
To aged Mopsa, and her orphan niece. 

Mr.NALCAS. 

Lavinia, coiric ' here primroses upspring ; 
Here choir* of linnets, here yourself piay sing; 
Here meadiitvs worthy of thy foot appear : 
O come, Lavinia ! let us wander hare \ 

■ MBLIBOBUS. 

Rose] la, come ! here flowers tbe heath adorn ; 
Here ruddy roses open on the thorn ; 
Here willows by the brook a shadow give :' 
O here, Rosella ! let us love to live ! 

MENALCAf. 

Lavinia's fairer than tbe flow'rs of May, 
Or autumn apples, ruddy in the ray : 
For hpr my flowers are in a garland wove ; 
And all my apples ripen for my love. 

MELIBOBUS. 

Prince of the wood, the oak majestic tow'rs ; 
The lily of the vale is queen of flow'rs : 
Above the maids Koselta's 'charms prevail. 
As oaks in woods, and lilies in the vale ! 



Resound, ye rocks I ye little bills rejoice ! 
Assenting woods, to Heav'n uplift yoar voice ! 
Let Spring and Summer enter hand in hand I 
Lavijiia conies ! the glory of our land ! 

MBUBOEUS. 

Whene'er my love appears upon the plain, 
To her the wond'riog sheplierds tune the strain ; 
" Who comes in beauty like the vernal mom, 
When yellow robes of light all Heav'n and Earth 
adorn." 

MBNALCAS. 

Rosella's mine, by all the pow'rs above ! 
Each star in Heav'n is witness to our love. 
Among the lilies she abides all day ; 
Herself as lovely, and as sweet as they. 

MELIBOBUS. 

By Tweed Lavinia feeds her fleecy care. 
And in the sunshine combs her yellow hair. 
Be thine the peace of lleav'n, unknown to kings I 
And .o'er thee angels spread their guardian wings \ 

MBNALCAS. 

I follow'd Nature, and was fond of praise ; 
Thrice noble Varo has approv'd my lays : 
If be approves, superior to my pec^rs, ' 
I join th' immortal clioir, and sing to oth6r yearg. 

MBLIBOBUS. 

My mistress is my muse : the banks of Tyne 
Resound with Nature's mitfic, and with «iiu«b 



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LOGAN'S pomi. 



Helen the fair, the beauty of our green, 

To me adjudg'd the prize, when chmen qaeen. 



Now cease ynar songs ; the flocks to shelter fly. 
And the hi^h Stin ha<( gaiu'd the middle sky. 
7'o both alike tho px>ei's bays belong ; 
Chiefii of thf. choir, and masters of the song. 
Thus let your pipes contend, with rival strife, 
To sinj* the praises of tlie pist'ral life : 
Sing Nature's scenes, with Natiirc's beauties firM ; 
Where po^'ts dreatn'd, where jirophets lay inspirM. 
Even CaltnloHiau queens have trwl the meads, 
And scepterM kings assumM the shepherds weeds : 
Th' angelic choirs, that pruard the throne of God, 
Have sat with shephcnrds on the humble sA, 
With «s, renewed, the golden times remain, 
And long-lost innocence is found again. 



PASTORAL SOKG. 

TO THB TUMK OF THE TBLLOW-HAIft'o LAODIB. 

In May when the gowans appear on tho green, 
And flow*rs in the lield and the forest are seen ; 
Where lilies bloomed bonny, and bawtlioma up- 

sprnng, 
The yellow-hair'd laddie oft whistled and sung. 

But neither tbe shades, nor the sweets of the flow'rs, 
N(ir the blackbirds that warbled on blossoming bowers, 
Coidd pleasure his eye, or his ear entertain ; 
For love was his pleasure, and love was his paiu« 

The shepherd thussung; while his flocks allaround 
Drew nearer and nearer, and sigh'd to the sound : 
Around, as in chains, lay tbe beasts of the wood. 
With pity disarmed, with music subduM. 

Young Jessy is fair as the spring's early flow'r. 
And Mary sings sweet as the bird in the bow*r : 
But Peggy is ikirer and swcttter than they ; 
With looks like the momiikg, with smiles like the dsy. 

In the flowVof her youth, in the bloom of eighteen; 
Of virtue the goddess, of beauty tbe qaeen : 
One hour in her presence an ara exoals 
Amid courts, where ambition with misery dwells. 

Fair to the ibephetti the new-springing flow'rs. 
When May and when morning lead on the gay hours: 
Bat Peggy is brighter and fairer than they ; 
She*s fiur as the morning, and lovely as May. 

9v6at to the shepherd the wild woodland sound, 
When )aikt«ng above him and lambs bleat around : 
But Peggy tu swaeter can qieak and can sing. 
Than the BOlee of the warblers that welcoiae th6 
spring. 

When hi beauty the moves by the brook of the 

plain, [main : 

You would call her a Venus new spning from the 

When die sings, and tbe wood3 with their echoes 

reply, 
Yott would think that an angel was warbling on high. 

Ye pow^ that preside over mortal estate ! 
Whose nod ruleth nature, whose, pleasure is fate ! 
O ghint me, O grant me tbe Heav'n of her charms 1 
May I live in her presence, and die in her arms ! 



ODS: 



TO- A FOOWTAIN* 

O pouNTAiN of the wood ! whose ghisiy wave« 
Slow-swelling from the rock of years^ 
Holds to ffcav'n a mirror blue. 
And bright as Anna's eye. 
With whom IVe sported on the maigin gnreen : 
My hand with leaves, with lilies white. 
Gaily decked her golden hair, 
Young Naiad of the vale. 
Fount uf my native wood ! thy murmnn greet 
My car, like poet's hcav'nly strain : 
Fancy pictures in a dream 
Tlie golden days of youth. 
O state of innocence ! O Paradise ! 
In Hope's pay garden, Fancy views 
Golden blossoms, golden fruits, 
And Kden ever groen. 
Where now, ye dear companions of my youth I 
Ye brothers of my IxMom ! where 
Do ye ti-ead the walks of life. 
Wide scattered o'er the world ? 
Thus wingetl larks forsake their native nes^ 
The merry minstrels of the morn : 
New to Heav'n they mount away, 
And meet again no more. 
All things decay ; — the forest like the leaf; 
Great kingdoms fall ; the peopled globe. 
Planet-struck, shall pass away ; 
Heav'ns with their hosts expire t 
But Hope's fair visions, and the beams of joy. 
Shall cheer my bosom : I will sing 
Nature's beauty. Nature's birth. 
And heroes, on the lyre. 
Ye Naiads ! blue-ey'd sifters of th(^ wood ? 
Who by old oak, or story *d stream, 
Nightly tread your mystic maze. 
Anil charm the wandVing Moon, 
Beheld by poet's eye; inspire my dreamt 
With %isk>n:^, like the landscapes fkir 
Of Heav'n 's bliss, to dying saints 
By guardian angels drawn. 
Fount of the forest ! in thy poet's lays 
Thy wares shall flow : this wreath of flow'rs, 
Gather'd by Annans hand, 
I ask to bind my brow. 



DANISH ODE. 



Tub great, the glorious deed is done t 
The foe is fled ! the field is won ! 
Prepare the feast ; the heroes caH i 
Let joy, let triumph fiU the hall ! 

The raven claps his sable wingi ; 
The bard his chosen timbrel brings j 
Six virgins round, a select choir. 
Sing to the music of his lyre. 

With mi?hty ale the goblet crown ; 
With mighty ale your sorrows drown : 
To day, to mirth and joy we jrietd ; 
To morrow^ &ce the bloody fleld. 



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DANISH ODE. . . . ANACREONTIC TO A WASP. 



69 



Vkom daqgeHs front , at tattle's eve, 
9mmJL Gomei tbe banqaet to the brave : 
Joy itunes with genial beam on all, 
Tlie joy that dwells in Odin's haih 

Tlie soog.bursts living from tbe I jre. 
Like dreains that guardian ghosts inspire; 
When mimic shrieks the heroes hear, 
And whirl the vjsbnary spear. 

M^sic 's the medicine of the reiod ^ 
Tbe ckMid of care give to the wind : 
Be ev'ry brow with garlands bound j[ 
And let the cup of joy go round. 

The cloud comes o*er the beam of light ; 
WeVe goesu that tarry but a night ; 
In tlie dark bouse, together pre^'d. 
The pnnccs and the [.eoplc rest 

Send round tbe ^hell, the fcast prolong, 
And send away the night in song : 
Be blest below, as those above 
With Qdm*s and the friends they love. 



DAKISH ODE. 

Is deeds of arms, oar fathers rise, 
Ilhiatnous in their ofTspring';* eyes : 
They fearless nish'd thro* ocean's storms, 
ibid dar'd grim Death in all its fonus : 
Each yoatb aasumM the sword and shield,t 
Ami pt* n hero m the field, . 

Shmll we degenerate from our racfl^ 
loglorioos in the monntain chase ? 
Arm, arm in fallen Hobba's right; 
Place your forefathera in your sight; 
To fiuoe, to glory, fight your way, 
And teach the nations to obey. 

Aaseme tbe oars, unbind the sails s 
Seod, Odin ! send prGpitions gales. 
At Loda's stone, we will adore ^ 
Thy name with songs, upon the shore ;^ 
Aad, full of thee, nndannted dare 
The lew, and dart the bolts of war. 

No lieast of shells, up dance ^y night. 
Are glorioas Odin*s dear delight: 
He, king ol mei^ his armies 1^ 
Wbcse heroes strove, where battles bled; 
Now rejgns above the^thoniing star, 
Tlie god of thunder and of war. 



iM who in battle bravely fall ! 
Hvy OMNiDt on wings to Odin's liall ! 
To imiflic's sound, in cups of gold, 
Thej drink new wine with chiefs of old; 
The socig of bards recoids their name, 
Aad fotore times shall speak their fame. 

Herfc! Odinthunden! haste on hoard ; 
IDaatrious Canute ! give the word. 
On wings of wind we pass the seas. 
To conquer realms, if Odin please : 
Wstb Odin's spirit in our soul. 
We'll pio the g^obe from pole to pole. 



4iKACRE0NTIC: 



TO A WASP. 



The following is a ludicrous imitation of the usual 
Anacreontics ; the spirit of composing which 
was raging, a few years ago, among all the 
sweet singers of Great Britain* 

Winced wand'rer of the sky! 

Inhabitant of Heav'n high ! 

Dreadful with thy dragon-tail. 

Hydra-head, and coat of mail f 

Why dost thou my peace molest ? 

Why dost thou disturb my rest ?r* 

When in May the meads are seen, 

Sweet enamel ! white and groen i 

And the gardens, and the bow'rs. 

And the forests, and the flow'rs, 

Don their robes of curious dye ; 

Fine confusion to the eye ! 

Did 1 — chase thee in thy flight ?• 

Did I — put thee in a fright ? 

Did 1 — spoil thy treasure hid ? 

Never — never — never-^-did. 

Envious nothing ! pray bevrare ; 

Tempt mine anger if you dare. 

Trust noyb in thy strength of wing ; 

Trust not in thy lengUi of sting. 

Heav'n nor Earth shall thee defend ; 

I thy buzzing soon will end. 

Take my counsel while you may ; 

Devil take you if you stay. 

Wilt— thoo— dare— my— face^to— wound ? — 

Thus, 1 fell thee to the ground. 

Down amongst the dead men, now. 

Thou shall forget thou ere wast thou. — 

Anacreontic bards beneath. 

Thus shall wail thee after death* 



CHORUS OF ELY8UN BARDS. 

" A wAsv for a wonder. 

To paradise under 

Descends ! See, he wanders 

By Styx's meanders! 

Behold, how he glows 

Amidst Rhodope's snows ! 

He sweats, in a trice. 

In the regions of ice I 

Lo ! he cools, by God's ire. 

Amidst brimstone and fire ! 

He goes to our king, 

And he shows him Im stin^^ 
• (Good Pluto loves satire. 

As women tove attire ;) 

Oar king sets him free. 

Like our fiun'd Euridice. — 

Thus a wasp could prevail ' 

O'er the Devil and Hell, 
A conquest botli hard .and laborious ! 

llio' Hell had hat bound him, 

And the Devil did confound him, 
Yet his sting and his wing were victorious !" > 

1 This cbonin enlx Jm been attribntod tp Logan. 



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TO 



LOGAN'S POEMS, 



THE EPISODE OF LEVINA, 

nU>M BRt;CB*6 POEM OP LOCHtlTBV. 



Low by the lake, ap.yet wilhoui a name. 

Fair bosom'd in the bottom of the vale, 

Aronb a cottage, green with ancient turf, 

Half hid in hoary trees, and from the north 

Fenc'd by a wood, but open to the Sun. 

Here dwelt a peasant, reverend with the IlK^ki^ 

Of age ^ yet youth was ruddy on his cheek : 

His form his only care : bis sole delight. 

To tend his daughter, beautiful and young ; 

To watch her paths ; to fill her lap with flosr'rs ; 

To see her spread into the bloom of years, 

The perfect picture of her motbcr^s youth. 

His age's hope, the apple of his eye, 

Belor'd of Heaven, his fair Levina grew 

In youth and grace the Naiad of tlie vale. 

Fresh as tbe flow*r. amid the sunny show'n 

Of May, and blither than the bird of dawn, 

Both roses' bloom gave beautv to her chedc. 

Soft tempered with a smile. The light of Heav'n, 

And innocence, illumed her virgin- eye. 

Lucid and lovely as the rooming star. 

Her breast was fairer tban the vernal bloom 

Of valley-lily, opening in a sbow'r j — 

Fair as the morn, aqd^beautiful as May, 

The glory of tbe year, when first she comes 

ArrayM, all beauteous, with the robes of Heav'n ; 

And, breathing summer breezes, from ber locks 

Shakes genial dews, and from her lap tbe flow'rs.—- 

Thus beautiful she look'd -, yet something more. 

And better &r than beauty, in ber looks 

Appear'd : the maiden blush of modesty ; 

The smile of cheerfulness, and sweet content ; 

Health'^ freshest rose, the sunshine of the soul : 

Each heightening each, efiiis'd o*er all ber form 

A nameless grace, the beauty of tbe mind. 

Thus finished fiedr above her peers, she drew 
The eyes of all the village, and inflam'd ' 
The rival shepherds of the neigfab'ring dale. 
Who laid the spoils of summer at her feet. 
And made the woods enamourM of her name. 
But pure as buds before they blow, and stiU 
A virgin in ber 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 flow'rs ; to lave them from the water-spring : 
To ope the buds with her enamour'd breath ; 
Rank the gay tribes, and rear them in the sun. — 
In youth, the index of maturer years, 
Leit by her school-companions at their play. 
She'd itften wander in the wood, or roam 
The wilderness, in quest of curious flow'r. 
Or nest of bird unknown, till eve approach'd. 
And hcmm'd her in the shade. To obvious swain, 
Or woodman chanting in the greenwood glin, 
She'd bring the beauU^ous spoils, andjask their names. 
Thus ply'd assiduous her delightful task. 
Day after day, till ev'17 herb she nam'd 
That paints the robe of Spring, and knew the voice 
Of ev'ry warbler \n the vernal wood. 

Her garden stretch'd along the river side. 
High up a sunny bank : on either side, 
A hedge forbade the vagrant foot; above. 
An ancient forest screen'd the green recess. 
Transplanted here, by her creative band. 



ITacb herb of Nature, full of fragrant sweets, 

That scents the breath of Summer; ev'ry flow'r 

Pride of the plain, that blooms on festal days 

In shepherd's garland, and adoras the year. 

In beauteous clusters flourished : Nature's woric. 

And order, finish'd by the hand of Art 

Here gowans, natives of the village green. 

To daisies grew. The lilies of Uie field 

Put on the robe they neiihsr sow'd iior spun. 

Sweet^smellin;^ shrubs and cheerful spreaiding tre€», 

Unfrnquent scattered, as by Natuic's hand. 

Shaded the flowers ; aud to her £den drew 

The earliest concerts of tl.e spring, and all 

The various music of the vscal year. 

Retreat romantic ! Thus, from early youth. 

Her life she led: one sumn:;:r*s 6ay, serene 

And fair, without a cloud ! like poets ^reamM 

Of vernal landscapes, of Fiysian vales, 

And islands of the ble^t ; where, hand in hand. 

Eternal Spring and Autumn mle the year. 

And love and joy lead on immortal youth I 

'Twason a summer's day, when eariy show'im 
Had wak'd the various vegetable race 
To life and beauty, fair Levina stray 'd. 
Far in the blooming wilderness she stray'd. 
To gather herbs, and the fair race of flow'rs. 
That Nature's hand creative pours at will. 
Beauty upbounded, over Firth's green lap. 
Gay without number, in the day of rain. 
O'er vallies gay, o'er hiUocs green she walk'd. 
Sweet as the season ; and at times awak'd 
The echoes of the vale, with native notes 
Of heart-felt joy, in nuhibers heaVnly s weet 
Sweet as th' hosannahs of a form of light, 
A sweet-tongu'd serapb in the bow'rs of Miss. 

Her, lis she halted on a green hill-top, 
A quiver'd hunter spy'd. Her flowing locks. 
Id golden ringlets fflitt'ring to the Sun, 
rpon ber bosom play'd : her maatle greeo^ 
like thiue, O Nature ! to her rosy cheek 
Lent beauty new ; as from the verdant leaf 
The rose-bud blushes with a deeper bloom. 
Amid the walks of May. The stranger's eye 
Was caught as with etberial presence. Oft 
He Iook'4 to He&v'n, and oft he met her eye 
In all the silent eloquence of love ; 
Then, wak'd from wonder, with a smile began : 
" Fair wand'rer of the wood ! what heaT>nly power^ 
Or providence, conducts thy wand'ring stsps 
To (his wild forest, from thy native seat , 
And parents, happy in a child so fair ) 
A shepherdess, or virgm of tbe vale. 
Thy dress bespeaks j but thy majestic mieb^ 
And eye, bright as the morning star, aonfes* 
Superior birth and beauty, bom to rule : 
As from the stormy cloud of night, that veila 
Her virgin orb, appears the queen of Heav'n, 
And with full beauty gilds the face of night. 
Whom shall I call the fa'urest of her sex. 
And charmer of my soul ? In yonder vale. 
Come, let us crop the roses of the brook. 
And wildings of the wood : soft under shade 
Let us racline by mossy fountain-side, 
While the wood suffers in the beam of noon, 
ril bring my love tbe choice of all the shades i 
First fruits; tbe apple raddy from the rock ; 
And clust'ring nuts, that bamish in the beam. 
O wilt thou bless my dwelUsg, and beeom* 



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THE. EPISODE OP LEVINA. 



-71 



Hie OWMT of theie i^ds ? rtf give thee all 
thai I pncBass ; and all tbou seest is mine." 

Thus spoke the youth, with rapture in bis eye ; 
And thus the maidea, with a blush, began: 
** BeyoBd the shadow of these mountains greoB, 
0eep-bosom*d in the vale, a cottage stands. 
The dwelling of my sire, a peaceful swain ; 
Yet at his frugal board Health sits a guest, 
And fiiir Cootantment crowns his hoary hairs. 
The patriardi of the plains : ne'er by his door 
The needy passed, or the way-fiurlng man. 
His only daughter and bis only joy, 
1 feed my fetber's dock ; and, while they rest, 
At times retiring, lose me in the wood, 
^idU'd in the virtues of each secret herb 
That opes its virgin bosom to the Moon.— 
No flaw'r amid the gaiden fairer grows 
Than the sweet lily of the lowly vale. 
The queen of flowers— But sooner might the weed 
That Uooms and dies, the being of a day, 
Presume to match with yonder mountain-oak, 
y\ai stands the tempest jiud the bolt of Heaven, 
From age to age the n»onarch of the wood — 

! had you been a shepherd of the dale. 
To feed yoar flock beside me, and to rest 
With me at noon in these delightful shades, 

1 might have list*ned to the voice of love. 
Nothing' reluctant; might with you have walk'd 
Wliole summer suns away* At even-tide, 
When Heav'n and Earth in all their glory shine 
With the last smiles of the departing Sua ; 

When the sweet breath of Summer feasts the sense. 
And secret pleasnre thrills the heart of man ; 
We nAght have walk'd alone, in converse siTeet, 
Along the quiet vale, and woo'd the Moob 
To hear the music of trae lovers vows. 
Bat fiite fbrUds ; and fortune's potent frown. 
And honour, inmate of the noble breast. 
Ke*cr can this hand in wedlock join with thine. 
Cease, beauteous stranger ! cease, beloved youth ! 
To vex a heart that never can be yonnt" 

Thus spoke the maid, deceitM : bat her eyes. 
Beyond the partial purpose of her tongue, 
Penuasioo gaiD*d. The dcep-enamoar'd youth 
Stood gazing on her charms, and all bis aoui 
Was lost in love^ He grasp'd her trembling hand, 
Acd breaiVd the softest, the sincerest vows 
OCbre: " O vhrgin ! ftiresi of the iair I 
My one beloved 1 were the Scotish throne 
To me tnoioutted tbro^ a scepter'd line 
Of ancanors, tfaoa, thou ahonld'st be my queen, 
Aad Caledonia's diadems adorn 
A fairer head than ever wore a crown !^ 

She rcditcn'd like the morning, under veil 
Of her own goldea hair. The woods among 
They wandered op and down with fond delay. 
Nor mark'd the &11 of evening : parted, then. 
The hi^ipieit pair on whom the Sun declined. 

Next day he found her on a flow'ry bank. 
Half under shade of willows, by a spring, 
tie minor of the swains, that o'er the meads, 
Sow-wbding, scattered flok'rets in its way. 
Thro^ many a whiding walk and alley green, 
She led him to her garden. Wonder-struck 
Be gu'd, all eye, o'er th' enchanting scene : 
And much he prak^dthe walks, the groves, the 

flO^TTS, 

Hcrbeaotifolcreatkn: muchlMpim'd 



The beautiful creatress ; and awak'd 
The Echo lA her prai^. 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 ibnd endearments, in Embraces sweet. 
That lovers only know, they liv'd, they lov'd. 
And found thej^acradise that Adam lost. — 
Nor dkl the virgin, with false modest pride, 
R«tard the nuptial morn : she fix'd the day 
That bless'd the youth, and openM to his eyes 
An a7e of gold, the Heav'n of happiness 
That lovers in their lucid moments dream. 
And now the rooming, like ^ rosy bride 
Adorned on her day, put on b^ robes, 
Her beauteoos rob^ of light : the naiad straams. 
Sweet as the cadence of a poet's sung, 
Flow'd down (he dale ; the voices of the grove. 
And ev'ry winged warbler of the air. 
Sung over heaid ; 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-smellmg herbs. 
To strew the bridegroom's way, and deck his bed. 

Fair in the bosom of the level lake 
Rose a green islandi cover'd with a spring 
Of flow'rs perpetual, goodly to the eye. 
And blooming from afar. 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 firom the bough. 
To give the bridegroom 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, puU'd the fruit; 
But wisfi'd and long'd for the enchanted tree. 
Not fonder sought the first created fair 
The fruit forbidden of the moital tree. 
The source of human woe. Two plants arose 
Fair by the mother's side, with fruits and flow'n 
In miniature. ,One, with audacious hand. 
In evil hour she rooted from the ground. 
At on(^ the island shook, and shrieks of woe 
At times were heard, amid the troubled air. 
Her whole fhime shook, the blood forsook her face^ 
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 fle#. When lo ! at once effus'd. 
Sent by the angry demon of the isle, 
A whirlwind rose :. it lash'd the furious lake 
To tempest, overtttm'd the boat, and Mmk 
The fair Levina to a wat'ry tomb. 
Her sad companions, bending from a rock, 
Thrice saw her head, and wppUoating handf 
Held up to Heav'n, and beard the shriek of Death ; 
Then over her the parting billow clos'd. 
And op'd no more. Her fiite in moumfal lays 
The Mose relates ; and sure each tender maid 
For her shall heave the sympathetie sigh. 
And haply my Eumelia, (for her soul 
Is pity's self), as, void of household cares. 
Her ev'ning walk she bends besklc the lake. 



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7« 



LOGAN? POEBIS. 



Which yet retains her name, shall sadly drop 
A tear, io mem'ry of the hapless maid ; 
And mourn with me the sorrows of the youth. 
Whom from his m^ress death did not divide. 
KobbM of the calm iiossession of his mind. 
All night he wander'd by the sounding: shore. 
Long looking o'er tlie lake; and saw at times 
The dear, the dreary ghofst of her heilov'd : 
Till love and grief suIxluM his manly prime, 
And brought his youth with sorrow to the graTe.— • 

I knew an aged swain, whose hoary head 
Was bent with years, the village-chronicle, 
Who much had seen, and from tiie former times 
Much had received. He, hanging o*ct the hearth. 
In winter ev'nings, to the gaping swains. 
And children circling rotind the fire, would tell 
Stories of old, and tales of other times : 
Of Lomond and Levina he would talk—- 



ODE: 
TO PAOLI, 

What man, what hero shall the Moses sing. 
On classic lyre, or Caledonian string, 

WhoAC name shall fill th* immoi-tal page; 
Who, fir'd from Heav*n ^ilh energy divine. 
In sun-bright gloiy bids his actions shine 
First in the annals of the age ? 
Ceasd are the gulden times cf yore; 
Tlie age of heroes are no more ! 
Rare, in these lattrr times, arise to 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 bi»ams unhorrowM shiucs afar? 
Who comes, with thousamis marchini; in bis rear. 
Shilling in arms, shaking his bloody spear,' 
Like .the red contet, sign uf war ? 
Paoli ! sent of Heav'n, to save 
A rising nation of the brave ; 
Whose fitm right hand bis angels arm, to bear 
A shield before his host, and dart the bolts of war. 
He comes ! he comes ! the saviour of the land ! 
His drawn sword flames in his uplifted hand, 

Enthusiast in bis count! y's cause ; 
Whose firm resolve obeys a nation^s call. 
To rise deliverer, or a martyr fall 
To liberty, to dying laws. 
Ye sons of freedom, sing his praise ! 
Ye poets, binrl bis brows with bays; 
Ye scepter'd shadows, cast your honours down. 
And bow before the head that never wore a crowD ! 
Who to the hero can the palm refuse ? 
Great Alexander still the world subdues. 

The heir of evei;la8ting praise. 
But when the hero's flame, the patriot's light ; 
When virtues human and divine unite ; 
When oliTes twine among the bays; 
And mutnal, both Minenrss shine : 
A constellation so divine, 
A wond'ring world behold, admire, and love. 
And bis best iinag« here th* Almighty marks above. 



As the lone shepherd hides him in the vQcks, 

When high Heav'n thunders; as the tim'rous flocka 

From the descending torrent flee: 
So flies a world of slaves at war's alarms, 
Whetk zeal on flame, and liberty in arms^ 
Leads on the fearless and the firee, 
Kesistless ; as the torrent flood, 
Hom'd like the Moon, uproots the wood. 
Sweeps flocks, and herds,and harvests from then- bass. 
And moves th' eternal hills from their appointedplaoe. 
Long hast thou labour'd in the gbrious Mfe, 
O laud of liberty ! profuse of life, 

And prodigal of priceless blood. . [crowa. 
Where henoes brought with blood the martyr's 
A race arose, heirs of their high renown. 

Who dar'd their Hie thro' fire and flood : 
- And Gafibri the great arose. 
Whose words of pow'r disarm'd his foes ; 
And where the filial image smiPd afar. 
The sire turned not aside the thunders of the war« 

O Liberty ! to man a guardian giv'n. 
Thou best and brightest attribute of Heav*n ! 

From whom descending, thee we sing. 
By nature wild, or by the arts refin'd. 
We feel thy po^^r essential to our mind j 
Each ;^n of freedom is a king. 
Thy praisr the happy world proclaim. 
And Britain worships at thy name, 
Tliou guardian angel of Britannia's isle ! 
And God and man rejoice in thy immortal smile ! 
Island of beauty, lift thy bead on high 1 
Sing a new soug of triumph to the sky I 

The day of thy deliverance springs-* 
The day of vengeance to thy ancient foe! 
Thy sons shall lay the proud oppressor low. 
And break the head of tyrant kings. 
Paoli f mighty man of war 1 
All bright in arms, thy oonqu'ring car 
Ascend; thy people from the foe redeem, 
Thou delegate of Heav'n, and son of the Supreme I 
Rul'd by th' eternal laws, supreme o'er all. 
Kingdoms, like kings, successive rise and fitll. 

When Cesar conquer'd half the Eaith, 
And sprAd bis eagles in Britanilia's sun ; 
Did Cesar dream the savage huts he woa 
Should give a flsr-^sm'd kingdom birth ? 
That here should Roman freedom light ; 
The western Muses wing their flight ; 
The Arts, the Graces find their fav'rite home ; 
Our armies awe the globe, and Britain rival Rome^ 
Thus, if th* Almighty say, " Let freedom be," 
Hiou, Corsica ! thy golden age shalt see. 

^ Rejoice'with songs, rejoice with smiles ! 
Worlds yet unfbnnd, and ages yet unborn. 
Shall bail a new Britannia in her mom, 
The queen of arts, the queen of isles s 
The Arts, the beauteous train of Peace, 
Shall rise and rival Rome and Greece ; 
A Newton Natttre*s book nnfold sublime ; 
A Milton smg toHeav^, and charm the ear of TImq ! 



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TflE 

POEMS 



OP 



THOMAS WARTON, B,D. 



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THE 

LIFE OF THOMAS WARTON, B- D. 

BY MR. CHALMERS. 



Mil WARTON was descended from an ancient and honourable famDj of Beverley^ 
m Yoricshire. His father was fellow of Magdalene College, Oxford, poetry professor in 
that university, and afterwards vicar, of Basingstoke, Hants, and Chobham, Surrey : 
He married Elizabeth, daughter of the late Joseph Richardson, rector of Dunsford, 
Surrey, and had by her three children : Joseph, the late head master of Winchester 
sdiool ; Thomas, the subject of this memoir, and Jane, a daughter, now living. He 
died m 1 746, and is buried under the rails of the altar of his church at Basingstoke, 
with an inscription on a tablet near it, written by his sods. They afterwards published 
ft volume of bis poems, by subscription, chiefly with a view to pay the few debts he 
kit behind, and supply his children with some assistance in the progress of then: edu* 
atioo. Whether tiie success of thb volume was equal to their hopes, is uncertain, 
but the poems acquired no reputation. 

Thomas was bora at Basingstoke, in 1728, and from his eariiest years discovered a 
Amdaess for reading, and a taste for poetry. In his ninth year, he sent to his sister 
tk foUowbg translation from the Latin of Martial. 

Wli«o bold Leander sought bis distant fair, " 

(Nor could tbe sea a braver burthen bear) 

Thus to the sw^iog waves be tpoke bis woe, 

** Drown me on my return — but spare me as I go.** 

Thb curiofflty is authenticated by the letter in which he sent it, still in the possession 
of his sister. It bears date " from the school, Nov. 7, 1737." His biographer^ Mr. 
Mant, says, that he continued under the care of his father until his removal to Oxford^ 
but I have been informed that he was placed for some lime at Basingstoke school. 

In March 1 743, in his sixteenth year, he was admitted a commoner of Trinity Col-^ 
lege, and soon after was elected a scholar. How much he was ever attached to that 
colkge, his writings, and a residence of forty-seven years with very few intervals, suf- 
ficiently show. In 1745, he published five pastoral eclogues, which are now 
added to his other poem^;, they are authenticated by Mr,. Isaac Reed's copy^ 
puithased at his late sale. About the same time, he sciit one or twe arfeMki l# 



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7fl UFE OF WARTON. 

Dodsle/s Masemn ', to which his brother was likewise a contributor: his next de* 
tached publication was The Pleasures of Melancholy, of which the first copy is qow in 
my possession, and differs considerably, particularly in the introductoiy part, from 
that published in bis collection of poems. On the appearance of Mason's Isis, reflect- 
ing on the loyalty of Oxford, which a foolish riot among some students had brought 
into question, Mr. Warton, encouraged by Dr. Huddesford, the president of Trinity, 
publbh^d in 1749, The Triumph of Isis, in which he retaliated on the sons of Cam in 
no very courtly strains. The poem, however, discovered beauties of a more nnmixed 
kind, which pointed him out as a youtli of great promise. It is remarkable, that 
although he omitted thb piece in an edition of his poems printed m 1777 » he restored 
it in that of 1779; this is said to have been done at Mason's suggestion, who was 
candid enough to own that it greatly excelled his own elegy, both in poetical imagery 
and correct flow of versification ; but Mason appears to have forgot that his personal 
share in the contest was but tricing, and that it contained a libel on the univerftity of 
Cambridge, which ought not to have been perpetuated. 

In 1750, our author contributed a few small pieces to the Student, or Oxford and 
Cambridge Miscellany, tlieu published by Newbery, Among these was the Progress 
of Discontent, which had been written -iu 174^6, and was founded on a copy of Latin 
verses, a weekly exercise, much applauded by Dr. Huddesford, and at his desire, 
paraphrased into English verse. In this state Dr. Warton preferred it to any imita- 
tion of Swift he had ever seep. His talents werq now generally acknowledged, and in 
1747 and 174>8, he held the office of poet laureate, conferred upon him according ta 
an ancient practice in the common room of Trinity College. The duty of this 
office was to celebrate the luciy chosen by the same authority, as the lady patroness^ 
and Warton performed his task, on an appointed day, crowned with a wreath of laurel.^ 
The verses, which Mr. Mant says are still to be seen in the conmson roon, are vrrit- 
ten in an elegant and flowing style, but have not been thought worthy of transcription. 

In 1760, he took his master's degree^ and in 1751 succeeded to a fellowship. In 
this last year be publbhed bis excellent satire, entitled Newmarket; An Ode tp 
Music, performed at the theatre ; and Verseson the death of Frederkk prince pjf 
Wales, which he inserted in the Oxford collection^ under the fictitious name of John 
Whetham, a practice not uncommon. In 1753 appeared at Edinburgh, The Union, 
or Select Scots and English Poems ; Mr. Warton was the editor of this small volume, 
in which he inserted his Triumph of Isis and other pieces, particularly the Ode on the 
approach of Summer, and the Pastoral in the manner of Spenser, which is said to be 
written by a gentleman formerly of the university of Aberdeen. Why he should make 
use of such a deception, cannoit now be discovered. 

About the year 1754, he drew up from the Bodleian 9pd Savilian statutes, a body 
of statutes for the Radclifle library. In the same year, he published his Observations 
On the Faerie Queene of Spenser, in one volume octavo, but afterwards enlarged and 
published in two volumes, 1762. By this work he not only established his character 
as un acute critic, but opened to the world at large that new and important field of 

^ These were, a song imitated from the Midsummer Nigrht'» Dream, and a prose essay on Saugness, 
Written partly by him and partly by Dr. Vansittart. Tbey ai« authenticated Iqr Dr. Walton's aategrapb^ 
inhisoopyoftbtMuseainfen«ti<H, C. 



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Of E OP WARTOK 7n 

tAicsiD and lilostndoii which has siace been so ably cultivated by Steev^ns, Maldne^ 
Beedy Todd, and other oommentators on our ancient poets« 

Soon after the appearance of the Observations, it was attacked in an abi^siv# 
pnpfakt, entitled The Observer Observed, written by Huggins« the author of a very 
ndiflereot translation of Aristotle. Hoggins had engaged Mr. Warton in this transla- 
tioo, bat when he read what Warton asserted of the inferiority of Aristotle to Spenser, 
ht iBuiiediately cancelled his share of the translation, and published this angry jjamph- 
kl '. Mr. Warton, who was now in his thirty-sixth year, had employed fully half that 
time in an unwearied perusal of tlie old English poets, and such contemporary writers 
» could throw light on their obscurities. The Observations on Spenser must have 
mdeBtly been the result of much mdustry, and various seading, aided by a happy 
iKinoiy* 

In 1757. on the resignation of Mr. Hawkins, of Pembroke College, our author was 
deded professor of poetry, which office, according to the usual practice, he held for 
lea years. His lectures were elegant and original. The translations from the Greek 
artiiologies^ now a part of his collected poems, were first introduced in them, and his 
Dbseriatio de Poesi Bocolica Grascorum, which he afterwards enhirged and prefixed 
t» Us edition of Theocritus, was also a part of the same course. During the publication 
cf the Idler, he sent to Dr. Johnson, with whom he had long been intimate, numbers 
S3, 93» mod 9S, of that paper. His biographer, however, is mistaken in supposing that 
ke contributed any paper to the Connoisseur. His being mvited by Colman and Thom- 
tM to engage in a periodical publication^ has no relation to the Connoisseur. It was 
Hoore, the editor of the Worid, who projected a Magazine soon after the conclusion 
of dm paper, and told the two Wartons, that '< he wanted a dull plodding fellow of 
one of the universities, who understood Latm and Greek ! ^' Mr. Bedingfield, one of 
Dodalcy's poets, and Gataker, the surgeon, were to be concerned in this Magazinci 
kA Moorels death prevented the execution of the scheme. 

Li 1760 he pnblbbed, but without his name, A Description of the City, College, 
md Cathedral of Wmchesier, 12rao. From his ovm copy, in my possession, he ap- 
pens lo have been preparing a new edition about the year 177I9 which was perhaps 
pccvcsted l>y a History of Winchester published soon after in two volumes, a mora 
Aovy work» but hi more inaccurate. In the same year (176O) he published a pieco 
«f exquisite humour, entitled, A Companion to the Guide, and a Guide to the Compar 
BiBa, beii^ a complete Supplement to all the accounts of Oxford hitherto published*, 
Hb paused through three editions in a very short time, but for some years has been 

>Tte kUkmrng pangraph from Un^ios* pamphlet, will be a sufficient specimen of the whole. 
* Ser. II. He (Warton) resumes the poisonous acrimooy with which he charges his weapon, which ha 
tils care abal! be judjcioosly two-ed^cd, lest it fell of slashing friend as well as foe. * Although, 
(flilhoar obaener) Spencer formed his Faerie Qaeene, npon the fanciful plan of Ariosto* — Poor Spen-» 
oei ! Wfetchad Arioato !— And oh ! roost mighty Warton !— Let this suffice, for reply to all, he herai 
riiMii of fklAiwa agaiDft Ariosto, which that poam totally confronts ; such &Ishood, that were it 
tnik, ■ ioMpid and iDfliaterial : and let os pass the Chronicles of the Seven Champions, Morte Arthur, 
m Itktam, the Blatant Beast, the Questyn Beast^.which is afterwards more particularly described, 
*tt abead nD of qootationSy no less delectable than erudite, most appositely collected, to give not only 
a ^i^Mty, bat also s rvrf^'*"^ tathis important tome ; that purchasers may be well supplied, for 
iMv UMTsetncot of pence, eithei; in their meditative faraigations, ^ at the Cloacinian offertory." C. 

' WaoB'^ Uk^Vf. Joseph Warton. C. 



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rs LIFE OP WARTON, 

Tmked among scarce books \ A moie scarce work, however, is his Inscriptionom 
Romanarum Metricarum Delectii8» 4^, whkh ought to have been noticed under the 
year 1758. Ili^ design of this collection was to fwesent the reader with some of the 
best Roman epigrams and inscriptions^ taken from the Elegantiae antiquorum marmo- 
rttm» from Mazochins, Smetius, Gratems, and other learned men. I^ coutaios, like- 
wise, a few modem epigrams^ one by Dr. Jortin, and five by himself, on the model of 
the antique, the whole ilivstrated with various readings and notes. 

About the year 17^0 he wrote, for the Biographia Britannica, the Life of Sir Thomas 
Pope, which he republished in 8vo 1772, and again m 1780, with very considerable 
additions and improvements : and in 17^1» %e published the Life and Literary Remains 
of Dr. Bathunl. In the same year, and in 1762, he contributed to the Oxford col- 
lections, verses on the royal marriage, and on the birth of the prince of Wales, and an 
ode entitled the Complabt of Cherwell, under the name of John Chichester, brotlier 
to the earl of Donegal K His next publication was the Oxford Sausage, or Select 
Pieces, 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 bv bis 
adding them afterwards to his avowed productions. In ] 766, he superintended an edition 
from the Clarendon press of Cephalus^ Anthology, to which he prefixed a very curious 
■ an4-.leanied prefiuse. In this he announced his edition of Tlieocritus, which made its 
appearance in two volumes 4to, 1770, a most correct and splendid, although not abso- 
lutely feultlessi work, that extended his feme to the continent. 

In 1767 he took his degree of B.D. aod in 1771 was elected a fellow of the 
Antiquarian Society: in October of the same year he was mstituted to the sgiall 
livuig of Kiddmgton, in 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 he published the first volume of his History of English Poetry, the most im- 
portant of all his woiks, and to the completion of which the studies of his whole life 
appear to have been bent. How much it is to be regretted that he did not live to 
complete his plan, eveiy student in ancient literature must be deeply sensible. He in- 
tended to have carried the history down to the commencement of the etghleenth 
century. A second volume accordingly appeared in 177S, and a third in 1781, after 
which he proliably rehixed from his pursuit, as at the period ofhis death in 17^, 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 socm became aware, that five would have scarcely 
been sufficient, if he continued to write on the same scale, and to deviate occasionally 
into notices of mannen^ laws, customs, &c. that had either a remote or an immediate 
connection with his principal subjects: what his reasons were for discontinuing bis 
labours cannot now be ascertained. It is well known to every writer that a work of 

' * A new editioD was pubUtked in 1806, by Mr. Cooke of Oxford, with the original cots. C 

< ThU information is from Mr. Mant's life. Lord Donegal was, however, one of Mr.. Warton's pupils, 
Shenstone had a visit from both at the Leasowes in the summer of 1758. Shemione*s Letters, On these 
great occasions of academical giatttlatioos, our author sometimes wxote renes for those who could not 
write fi>r themselves. C. * 



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LIFE OF WARTON^ ff 

gicat laagntade requires temporaiy relaxatioOft or a change of employnent and a^ay 
admit of both without injury: but he might probably find that it was now less easy 
(0 letura with spirit to his magnum ifpua, thaa in the days of .more vigour and activity. 
It n certain that be wished the public to think that he was making hb usuid progress, 
for in l7S5p when he published Miltons Juvenile Poems, he announced the tpeedtf 
publication of the fourth volume of the history, of which from that tune to his death 
ten sheets only were fiuished. His brother^ Dr. Joseph^ was long supposed to be 
engaged in completing this fourth volume. In one of lus letters lately published by. 
lir. Wooll, and dated 179^» he says, ^ At any leisure I get busied in finishing th^ 
last volume of Mr. Walton's History of Poetry, which I have engaged to do — for the 
booksellers are clamorous to have the book finished (though the ground I am to go over 
is so beaten) that it may be a complete work.^ Yet on his death m 1800 it did no} 
appear that he had made any progress. 

Mr. Warton's biographer has traced the origm of this work to Pope, who, accordin^^ 
to Euffhead, had sketched a plan of a history of poetry, dividmg the poets into cla^^ses 
or schools^ but Buflfhead's list of poetB is grossly erroneous. Gray, however, Mr« 
MasoD informs us, bad meditated a history of English poetiy, in which Mason was to 
assist hinu Their design was to introduce specimens of the Provencal poetry, and of 
the Scaldic, British, and Saxon, as preUmimury to what first deserved to be called 
Eogiish poetry, abont the time of Chaucer, from whence their lustoiy, properly so 
called, was to conunenoe. Gray, however, was deterred by the magnitude of the. 
undertaking, and being informed that Warton was em{rfoyed on a simihur .design, more 
leadily relinquished his own« 

Snch is Mr. Mant's account^ who adds (in p. cixvi.) 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 
his own plan, before he knew any thing of Gray's, and that when he heard of the 
latter, and perhaps at the same time of its being relinquished, he thought proper, 
which he might then do without indelicacy, to apply to Gray through the medium of Dr. 
Uurd, requesting that he would conununicate any fragments, or sketches of his design. 
Mr. Gray, in answer to this application, sent the following letter. 

'« SiH, •" 16tb April 1770, Pembroke Hafli 

" Our friend Dr. Hurd having long ago desired me in your name to com^ 
■ranicate any firiigments, or sketches of a design I once had to give a hntory of English 
poetry, you may well think me rude or negligent, when you see me hesitating for so 
many months befojre I comply with your request, and yet (believe me) few of your 
friends have been bet^r pleased than I to find thb subject (surely neither unentertainr 
ing nor unusefhl) had fallen into hands so likely to do it justice : few have felt a higher 
catocm for yoor talents, your taste and industry: in truth the only cause of ray delay 
has been a sort of diffidence, that would not let me send you any thing so short, so 
dight, and so imperfect, as the few materials I had begun to collect, or the observa- 
tiofis 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 i« 
any thing with your own plan, for I am told your first voltkmc is already m the preM. 



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80 tlPE OF WARTON. 

<«tKtftODt7CTiOK«-^n the poetry of the Gdic (or Celtic) natknsy as fiurba<^ as It 

can be traced. 

<'0n that of tht Goiht: its introducticm into these islands by the Saxons and 
Danes, and its duration. On the origin of rhyme among the Franks, the Saxons, and 
Proven^aux : some account of the Latin rhyming poetry from its early origin down to 
the 15tb century. 

** P. l.->On the school of Provence, which rose about the year 1100, and was 
soon followed by the French and Italians.; their heroic poetry, or romances in verse, 
allegories, fabliaux, syrvientes, comedies, &rces, canzoni, sonnets, balades, madrigals, 
sestflMS, &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- 
ttrarch, Boccace, and others. 

** State of poetry in England from the Conquest (1065) or rather from Henry IFs 
time (1154) to the reign of Edv/ard the Srd (13'ir). 

''P. 2. — On Chaucer^ who first introduced the manner of the Provenpaux, 
improved by the Italians, into our country ; his character and merits at large ; the 
different kinds in which he excelled. Gower, Occiave, Lydg&te, Hawes, G. Douglas, 
Lindsay, Bellenden, Dunbar, &c. 

^<P. 3. — ^Second Italian Khooi (of Ariosto,.Ta8so, &c.) an improvement on the 
first, occaaoned by the revival of letters in the end of the 15th century. The lyric 
poetry of this and the former age introduced from Italy by lord Surrey, su- T. Wyat, 
Bryan, lord Vaux, &:c. m the beginnmg of the l6th century. 

" Spenter, 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 m Milton. 

" A third Kalian school, full of conceit, begun in Q. Elizabeth's reign, continoed 
under Jaraes, 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 Ihe Restoration. Waller, Dryden, 
Addison, Prior and Pope, which has continued down to our own times. 

*^ 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 wiU also see that I have excluded 
dramatic poetry entirely, which if you have taken m, it will at least double the bulk 
and labour of your book."^ 

Mr. Mant, very naturally desirous of accounting for Warton's liavtng deviated 
from Gray's plan, transcribes a pjfrt of the preface to the history. Perhaps, iiow- 
ever, the reader will be holler pleased with Mr. Warton s answer to the above 
letter, which has never yet appeared, and is now transcribed from his own copy. 

• 

< This letter oondades with requesting th^ favour of some atteutioD to a foreign young gentlemra, 
then entered of one of the colleges. ^Xr, Mant, nho is indebted to the G^tleman's Magazine for tto 
copy he has given, adrls, "There seems no reason to doubt of its genuineness, though there may be to 
question who it was that had the power or right to communicate it*' How it came into the Magazine 
during Mr. 'Wnrton's life-time, I know not The Qrigiua), however, is now in my posseasioD, with War- 
loo'i imswer. C. 



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LIFE OP WARTON. ^ tl 

•* Sir, 

« I am infinitely obliged to you for. the favour of your letter. 

*^ Your Plan for the History of English Poetry is admirably constructedj and 
imicb improved from an idea of Pope, which Mr. Mason obligingly sent me by HppU- 
odon from our friend Dr. Hurd. I regret that a writer of your consummate taste 
abould not have executed it. 

" Although I have not followed this plan, yet it is of great service to me, and throws 
noch l^ht on many of my periods, by giving connected views and details. I begin 
with such an introductimi, or general dissertattion, as you had intended: viz. on the 
Northern Poetry, with its introduction into England by the Danes and Saxons^ and 
its duration. I then begin my History at the conquest, which I write chronologicaUy 
in sections ; and oontmue, as matter Bucoessively ofiers itself, m a series of regular 
SBoab, down to and beyond the Restoration. I thmk with you that dramatic poetry 
B detached from the idea of my work, that it requires a separate consideration^ and 
trill swdl the size of my book beyond all bounds. One of my sections, a very large 
oae, is entirely on Chaucer^ and exactly*fills your title of Part Second, In the course 
of my annals, I consider collaterally the poetry of different nations as influencing our 
o«B. What I have at present fimshed ends with the section on Chaucer, and will 
ibnost make my first volume : for I design two volumes in quarto. This first volume 
will soon be in the press. I should have said before, that although I proceed chro- 
B<>l<'gically, yet I of^ stand still to give some general view, as perhaps of a particular 
tpedes of poetry, &c. and even antic^nUe sometimes for this purpose. These views 
oAea form one section : yet are interwoven into the tenour of the work, without inter- 
mfUmg my historical series. In this respect, some of my sections have the efiect of 
ym porta or dioisions — \ 

" 1 cannot take my leave without dedaring, that ray strongest incitement to prose- 
cite the History of English Poetry is the pleasing hope of being approved by you ; 
whose tme genius I so justly venerate, and whose genuine poetry has ever given me 
tnch sincere pleasure. I am, sir, &€." 
« Winchester College, April 20, 1770." 

It b almost needless to say that the progress of Warton's History afibrded the 
iaghest gratification to every learned and elegant mind. Ritson, however, whose 
learning appears to have been dear to him only as it administered to his illiberalityy 
attacked our antfaor in a pamphlet, entitled Observations on the three first volumes 
of the History of English Poetry, in a familiar Letter to the Author, 1782. *In thb, 
wUe he pointed out some real inaccuracies, for which he mij^t have received the 
tbuib of the historian, his chief object seems to have been to vblate, by low scur- 
liGtj and personal acrimony, every principle of liberal criticism, and of that decorous 
inlerchange of respect which men of learning, not otherwise acquainted, preserve be- 
twecQ one another. What could have provoked all this can be known only to those 
vho have <%ped into a heart rendered callous by a contempt for every thing sacred 
ttd social. 
• 

"I Thii bhak is filled up by a notice of the young foreigner Kcommended by Gray. C, 

VsuZVUL Q 



^ 



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•2 UPE OF WARTON. 

In 1777, Mr. Warton published a collection of his poems, but omittidg some which 
had appeared before: a second edition followed io 177S> a third m 1779p and a fotirtli 
in 1789- .The omissions in all these are now restored. 

In 1781 he seems to have diverted his mind to a plan as arduous 0$ his Hislory of 
Poetiy. He had been for some time making collections for a Parochial Hbtory, or 
as it is more usually called, a County History of Oxfordshire. As a specimen, he 
printed a few copies of the History of the parish of Kiddingten, which were gifen to 
bis friends, but in 1782 an edition was offered to the public. Topography bad long 
fanned one of his favourite studies, and the aeuteness with which he had investigated 
the progress of ancient architectare ^ gave him undoubtedly high ckiims to the honours 
of an antiquary, but as be stood pledged for the completion of fab poetical histocy, 
it is to be regretted that he should have begun at this advanced period of life to in- 
dulge the prospect of aa undertaking which he never could complete. 

In } 78^ he took an active part in the Chattertonian controversy, by puUishing an 
Enquiry into the authenticity of the Poems attributed to Thomas Rowley. He bad 
already introduji^ed the question into his history, and now more decidedly gave his 
opinion that these.poems were the fabrication of Chatterton. The same year, he pub- 
lislied his verses on sir Joshua Reynolds's painted wuidow in New Cottege chapeL 
This produced a letter to him from sir Joshua, in winch, with a pardonable vanity, if 
it at all deserve that appellation, he evpiesses a wish that his name had appeared in 
the verses. In a second edition, Warton complied wHh a wish so flattering to hmn 
self by implying the duration of his poetry, and RBYMOf<DS was substituted for the 
word Artist. 

In thb year also he was presented by Lb college to the donative of HMl Farrancci 
in Somersetshire, and about the same time became a member of the library Club, 
composed, of those friends of Dr. Johnson whose eonveisations form so interesting a 
part of hb life by BoswelK In 1785, he was chosen Camden proYessor of history on 
the resignation of Dr. (now sir William) Seott. By the letters added to WooU's life 
of his brother, we find that our author was making interest for the professorship of 
modem hbtory in 1768, when Vivian was preferred. Warburton on thb occasion 
sent him a letter, complimenting him on the heroic manner in which he bore bb disap- 
pomtment, and informing him, aa a piece of consolation, that Viviau had an ulcer in 
fab bladder, which was likely to prove fatal in a short time !— As Camden professor, 
he delivered an maugural lecture, ingenious, leameds and full of promise, but, 
says hb biographer, '* he suffered the rostrum to grow cold while it was in fab pos* 
session." . 

The office of poet laureate was accepted by him thb year, as it was offered at the 
express desire of hb majesty, and he filled it with credit to himself and to the place. 
Whitehead, his immediate predecessor, bad the mbfortune»to succeed Cibber, and 
could with difficulty make the public look seriously on the periodical labours of the 
laureate, yet by perseverance lie contrived to restore some degree of respect to the 
office. Warton succeeded yet better by varyiug the accustomed modes of address, 
and by recalling the mind to gothic periods and splendid events. The facetious au- 

8 In his Observations on Spenser ; and since published, with other essays on the same sotg^, by Mr 
Taylorof Holbom, 1800. C 



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LIFE OP WARTON. S8 

tlion, indeed, of the Protmtkmarjr Odes, (a set of poKtical satires) took some freedom 
Willi bis Batne, but they seemed to be aware that another Gibber would have soiled 
tiieir purpose better; and Wartoo, who possessed a large share of humour, and a quick 
sense of ridkole, was not to be offended because he had for once been ^' tiie occasion 
of wit in other men V 

Hblast publication was an edition of the Jutenile 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 others and of himself, to elucidate his 
obsolete diction, and by the adduction and juxtaposition of parallels gleaned both from 
bis poetry and {)rose, to ascertain his favourite words, and to show the pecuyarities of 
his phraseology." The first edition of this work appeared in 1785, and the second in 
1791, a short time aAe r his death* It appears that he had prepared the alterations 
and additions for the press some time before. It was indeed ready for the press in 
17S9, and probably begun about tliat time, but was not completed until after his death, 
when the task of coi^recting the sheets ilevoWed upon his brother. His intentKHi was 
to extend hb pkm to a second volume, containing the Paradise Regained and Samp- 
son Agonirtes, and he left notes on both. He had the proof sheets of the first edition 
printed only on one side,'wfateh be carefully bound. Tbey are now in my possession, 
ind demonstrate what pams he took in avokting errours, and altering expressKMis which 
appeared on a second review to be weak or improper Tlie second edition of Milton 
was enriched liy Dr. Charles Bumey's learned remarks on the Greek verses, and by soma 
observations on the other poems by Warburton, which were communicated to the 
editor by Dr.-Hurd. At the time of our author's death, a new edition of his poems 
was sdso preparing for puMi^tidn. 

His death was soinewhat sudden. Until his sixty-second year, he enjoyed vigorous 
and uninterrupted health. On being seized with the gout, he went to Bath, from whkh 
he returned recovered, m his own opinion, but it was evklent to his friends that his 
constitution liad received a fatal shock. On Thursday, May 20, 1790, he passed the 
eremig in the common room, and was for some time more cheerful than usual. Be* 
tween ten and eleven o'cledi 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- 
ehapei of Triiilty College, with the highest academical honours; the ceremony being 
attended, not only by the members of bis own college, but by the vice^hancellor, 
beads of hooaes, and procton. His grave is marked by a plain inscription whith entt<- 
; his preferments, with bis age, and the date of his death. 



» We have hh broCher'fl iraihority that " he always heartily Ipmed in the laugh, and applauded the 
tmatilTr wH nad humour that appearecT in many of thOBn origiaal satires." ^r. Bowles's evidence 
my be dted as more impartial, and as affording the testrmony of an excellent judge to the character 
ef WaiCuo. " I can say, being at that time a schalar of Trinity College, that the laureat, who did the 
fitttest bODOor to his station from his real })oetIcal abilities, did most heartily join in the laugh of the 
Pi ob atl fl uar y Odes : for a man more devoid of envy, anger, and ill-nature, never existed. So sweet was 
hstHnper, ao rtmote fiom pedantry and all afGKtation was bis conduct; that when even Ritson's scnr- 
rikiQs abote caoM out, in which he asserted thi^ his back was " broad enough, and his heart hard 
CMogh", to bear any thing Ritson could lay on it, he only said, with his usual smHe, ** a hlack^et' 
(cr'ddof, ar (."—Bowles's Edition of Pope's IVorks, YI. 325. C 



G2 



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M LIFE OP WARTOR 

To these particultfr»> M>iue of whicb have been taken from Mr. Manf s life of Wartoflr, 
prefixed to an edition of bis poems, published in 1 802, it may now be added on ano- 
ther authority, that from April \755 to April 177^, he served the curacy of Wood- 
stock, except during tlie Ipng vacations, and although his pulpit oratory does not appear 
to have ever entitled him to particular notice, many are still alive who speak of bim 
vrith more regard and affection than of any person who ever ofiiciated there *°. 

Mn Warton's personal character has been drawn at great length by Mr. Mant, and 
seems to have no defects but what are incident to men who have passed their days in 
retirement from pehshed life. A few pecuUarities are recorded wliicb might perhaps 
have been omitted without injary to the portrait. Some of them seem to be given upon 
doubtful authority, and others are not strictly speaking characteristic, because not habi- 
tual, or, if habitual, are too insignificant for notice. It is of as little consequence to know 
that Mr.Wartoh smoked tobacco, as that GiblM>n took snuff, and Johnson preserved the 
chips of oranges. It has been said, however, that Mr. )Varton was a lover of low 
company, a more serious charge, if it could be substantiated. But what low com- 
pany means is not always very obvious. It is not asserted that Warton disgraced hu 
character by a constant association with low company, and that he should have occa- 
sionally amused himself wttli the manners and conversation of humble tradesmen, 
jnechanics, or peasants, was surely no great crime in one whose researches imposed in 
some degree the necessity of studying mankind in all ranks, and who, m the illustia- 
tion of our ancient poets, had evidently profited by becoming acquainted with the 
conversation of the modem vulgar. 

In literary company he is said to liave been rather silent, but this, his surnving friends 
can recollect, was only where the company consisted of a majority of strangers; and 
a man who has a refputation to guard will not lightly enter into conversation before he 
knows something of those with whom he b to converse. In the company of his 
friends, among whom he could reckon the learned, the polite, and the gay, no man 
was more communicative, more social in his habits, and convecsation, 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 tlie only 
man of genius that he knew witliout a heart." It is highly improbable that Johnson, 
who loved and practised truth and justice, should say this of one with whom lie had 
exchanged so many acts of personal and literary friendship. It is to be regretted, in- 
deed, that towards the end of Johnson's life, there was a coolness between him and 
the Wartons, but if it be true that he wept ou tlie recollection of his past friendship, 
it is very unlikely that he would have characterised Mr. Warton in the manner re* 
ported. Whatever was the cause of the abatement of tlieur ultimacy, Mr. Warton 
discovered no rebutment when he communicated so many pleasmg anecdotes of John* 
son to Mr. Bosweil, nor when he came to discuss the merits of Milton m opposition to 

• 
10 Baldwio's Literary Journal, 1803, wliere are fome other anecdotes and characteriftioi very h»> 
Muurable iu Mr. WartoD, and eridentiy written by one who knew bim well. C. 



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IlFE OF WARTON. 85 

tbe opinmns of that eminent critic. Dr. Warton, indeed, as miiy be seen in his notei 
00 Pope, mixed somewhat more asperity with his review of Johnson's sentiments. 

Instances of Warton s tenderness of heart, affeclionale regard for children, and general 
hamanity, have been accamulated by all who knew him. Nor is tliis wonderful, for he 
knew nothing of one quality which ever keeps the heart shut. He had no avarice, no 
ambition to acquire the su}>eriority which wealth is supposed to confer. For many years 
he lived on his maintenance from college, and from the profits of a small living, with 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 sous of 
other persons of rank, he might reasonably have expected higher prefetment. 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 w4iere asking is a matter of course, had not his contented indolence, or perhaps 
the dread of a rciiisal, induced him to sit down 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 
he sold the copy-right of his History of Poetry for less than four hundred pounds. 

In the exercise of his profession as a divine, Mr. Mant has not heard that he was 
much disdngoished. He went through the routine of parochial duty in a respectful 
mmier, bat a harried mode of speaking, partly owing to habit and partly to a natural 
impedimMity prevented his being heard with advantage ". It is a more serious object 
tion, that he has, particularly in his notes on Milton, expressed opinions on religious 
topics, the consequence of which he had not dehberately considered. He hated Puritans 
nd Calviniists, bat does not seem to have understood very clearly that his own church, 
aad every pure church, has many doctrines in common with them. His opinions 
«D psalmodj^ and on the observation of Sunday, are particularly objectionable. 

As a contributor to the literature of his country few men stand higher than Waiton« 
He was the firet who taught the true method of acquiring a taste for the excellencies 
of cor aacieiit poets» and of rescuing their writings from obscurity and oblivion. In 
this nsped he is the father of the school of commentators, and if some have, in certain 
instances, 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 
the lights which he afforded them." His erudition was extensive, and his industry mast 
have been at one time incessant. The references in his History of Poetry only, indi- 
cate a eoorae of ▼arious reading* collation and transcription, to which the common life 
of man weesaa insufllcient He was one of those scholars who have happily rescued the 
study of antiquities from the reproaches of the frivolous or indolent* Amidst the most 
nigged tntki 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 beeo contrived for this purpose, and the relief which his own mind demanded, 
he thoQgfat would not be unacceptable to his fellow-travellers. 

" T«o sennons vhicli he preached repeatedly are in my posMssion, but neither written by KimtelC 
^ is a printed fennon for the Martyrdom, curiouBly abridj^ed : the other is in an oM band, probably 
UBbther'i. a 

S 



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as, UFE OF WARTON- 

To the industry fvliich he employed in all his literary undertakings, there can be no 
doubt he was indebted for much of that placid temper and contentment which du- 
liiiguisbed 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, howei'er easy or 
^duous, nothing by which time may be shortened by occupation, and occupation 
rendered easy by habit To all this waste of time and talent, Warton was a stranger. 
Dnriag the long vacation, indeed, he generally resided with bis brother at Winchester, 
but e?eii thia was a change of place rather tlian of occupation. There he found libra- 
lies, scholars and critics, and could still indulge his delight in " cloysters pale,** " the 
tapered choir," and ** sequestered bles of the deep dome;" and there as well as at 
bcme, be continued his researches, and enjoyed solitude or society in such proportions 
as suited his immediate inclination. 

Yet as he pursued an untried |>ath, and was the founder of his own studies, it can- 
not be a matter of great surprise, if he failed in couduc^ug them with due method. 
To this it was owing that the emendations and additions to his first and second vohnoes 
are so numerous as to have been made the ground of a serious charge against his dili- 
gence and accuracy. But had he lived to complete the work, he could have no doubt 
offered such ex£uses as must have been readily accepted by every reflectipg mind. If 
we adJDit the tnagnitude of the undertaking, which evidently exceeded his own idea 
when he fondly hoped that it might have been finklied in two or three volumes ; if 
we consider the vast number of books he liad to consult for matters apparently trifliag, 
but really important; that- he had the duties of a cleigyman and tutor to perform while 
engaged in this work, and above all, that his friends were assisting him, often too late, 
with additional illustrations or references, it will not afqpear highly censurable that he 
dismissed his volumes capable of improvement. From his own copy of the ftrst 
volume of his Hi&U>ry, and of bis edition of Milton, both now before me^ it appears 
Ui^ he corrected witl^ fastidious care, and was extremely anxious to render his style 
)vhat we now find it, perspicuous, vigorous, and occasionally oruainented. His cor- 
rections, however, are often written in an indistinct hand, and this perhaps occasioned 
fresh errours which he had not au op|K)rtunity to correct. He bad not found out the 
secret, which appiears to be yet a secret to most writers, tiie danger and inconvenienoe 
of sending unfinished works to the press. This was not the practice of our eminent 
historians. Hume, Robertson, aiul Gibbou completed every line of their volumes be- 
fore they began to print. But whoever attempts to feed the press 4rom flay to day, 
will soon find his stores exhausted, and himself obliged to furnish a hd^, oiide copy, 
which, if he is afterwards ashamed of it, he finds it too late to withdraw, and not very 
easy to mend. — ^With all its faults, however, this history will ever ffemaio a monument 
of learning, taste, and judgment, such as few men m any nation hi^ve been able to pro- 
duce. 

His poetry, as well as tliat of his brother, has been the occasion of some dififeraoce 
of opinion among the critics, and the scImoI of Warton, as it is called, has not of late 
been always mentioned with the respect it deserves. Ampng the chamcteristics of our 
author^s poetry, however, his style may be considered as manly and energetic, but sel- 
dom varied by the graces of suoplicity. Hb habiU of thought led him to commence 
all his poems in a style pompous and smeUmg ; his ideas often ran mi the unaginary 
2 



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Ure OF WAEION. %7 

4iji of golUe grandeur, 9^4 nu^^ty aehtovemepl; tod where aucli svl^cts were to 
be treated, as id hk Triumph of Isis, and in hb Laureat Odi»y no nan could have 
clothed them in language more appropriate* 

Ifie Triumph of Isiswaji written in his twenty-firat ]war» 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 iiunre frequently a proof of hibour tiMu of 
taste. The Pleasures of Melsiacboiy appears to me to be a DM>re genuine spooimen of 
cady taleot He was o«ly in his aevanteemth year, when his mind was so richly adored 
with striking and elegant imagery. 

In feneral, he seems to have taken Wi^^ for his model, and ibroiigbout Us poems 
we find esfUMsions borrowed with as much freedom from Milton, as , be has proved 
Ihat MiUw borrowed from others. One piece only, Newmarket, is an imitation of 
Pope, Md h certainly one of the finest altires in onr language. In ibis he has not 
only adopted the veni^cation of Pope, and emulated bis wit and point, but many of 
hii lilies aiw parodies on what he recollected in Pope's Satires. This freedom of bor- 
rowing, however, saevss so g^ueiaUy allowed* that it can fi>rm no higher ^j^cftion 
against Warton, than against Pope, Gray, and others of acknowledged eminence. We 
cannot be surprised that the metnory of such a student as Warton, should be familiar 
with the choicest language of poetry, and that he should often adopt it unconscious of 
its being the pn^rty 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 liues as 

Issues to clothe in gladsome glist'ring green 
The genial globe— 
or, 

The due clock swinging slow with sweepy swing, 

whkh, 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, Imd he written nothiog 
dse, would have proved his claim to that title. Nothing can be more natural, just, 
or delightful, than his pictures of rural life. The first of April, and the Approach of 
Summers have seldom l>een rivalled, and capnot perhaps be excelled. The only 
objection which some critics have started is, that hb descriptions 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 tlie unexpected msertion 
<rf reflections, *^ imparts to us the same pleasure that we feel, when, m wandering 
through a wilderness or grove, we suddenly behold in the turning of the walk a statue 
of some Virtue or Muse." Yet in Warlon's descriptive poetry, it is no small merit to 
have produced so much effect, so many exquisite picturies without tfab aid. 

Ite 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 consoU- 
tim» that it seems difficult to lay it down without unmixed admiration. The Crusade 



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U LIFE OP WARTON. 

and the Orav# of Arthur, are likewise q)eciineiis of genuine poetical taste, acting *oti 
materials that are difficult to manage. Both in invention and execution, these odea 
may rank among the finest of their species in our language. 

Warton has afforded many proofs of an exquisite relish for humour in his Fane- 
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 remaik that 
few men have combined so many quidities of mind, a taste for the sublime and 
the pathetic, the gay and humorous, the pursuits of the antiquary, and the pleasures 
of amusement, the labours of research, and the play of imagination. 

Upon the y/hxAe, it may be allowed, that as a poet, he is original, various and ele- 
gant, but that in most of his pieces he discovers the taste that results from a studied 
train of thought, rather than the wild and enraptured strams that arise from passion, 
inspued 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 pre- 
ferring '* fiction and fancy, [Hcturesque description and romantic imagery,'' to ** wit 
and elegance, sentiment and satnre, sparkling coujrfets, and pointed periods ^\" 

^ Piefiuse to IKiltOD'f Poems. C. 



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POEMS 



OF 



THOMAS WAR TON, 



fflSCEUANEOUS PIECES. 



Orotii ExcerpU ex Tragicis, p. 463. 
et ValclLeiUBrii Diatriben in £uri- 
pidb relljq. p. S12. 



TBI 

TRWMPU OF ISIS, 

OCCASIONED IT 

ISIS, AN ELEGY. 

(wtmfii m 1749, THE* author's 21st tsar.) 

Qnid aifai iieicioqaiiD,proprio cam Tybride,Roiiiam 
SaBperinoregeris? Refenmt si Tera paraites, 
HsK mbem inano miUns qui marte pelivit, 
LctitnsTiolaneredit Neci 



f)p dkmag flawen when gemal gales diffuse 
^ The fragraiit tribute of refreshing dews ; 
^Ite diants the jnilk-maid at her balmy pail, 
Aad veary icapen whistle o'er the vale ; 
^^snnM by the muimnn of the qoiy'ring shade. 
O'er IsU>willow.frhiged banks I stray'd : 
Aad calmly musiiig tfaroui^ the twilight way, 
bpeaaive mood I fiam'd the Doric lay. 
^^ lo ! Iroin opeoiog clouds a golden gleam 
hmfd sudden qilesidours o'er the shadowy sUeam ; 
Aad fiom the wave arose it's guardian queen, 
Kamni by her sweepmg stole of glossy green ; 
^^Ue in the coral crown, that bound her brow, 
Was aove the Delphic lanreTs Terdant bough. 

As^ SBOOtli wCuh^ of the dimply flood 
Tbeiflver-slippar'd virgin lightly trod ; 



From her loose hair the dropping dew she press'^f- 
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-thron'd on yon miyestic 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 Phebus* spite. 
The venal «ods of slavish Cam unite ; 
To shake yoo towers when Malice rears her crest. 
Shall all my sons in silence idly rest ? 

Still sing, O Cam, yooriavMte Freedom's cause ; 
Still boast of Freedom, while you break her laws : 
To power your songs of gratulation pay. 
To courts address soft flattery's servile lay. 
What though your genCIe Mason's plaintive verse 
Has hong with sweetest wreaths Musteus' herse ; 
What though your vaunted bard's ingenuous woe. 
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 iSbe 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 plundities supmely 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 heard sage Milton's manly tones among^ 
Where Cam, meandering thro' the matted reeds. 
With loitering wave his groves of laurel feeds. 
Tia ours, my son, to deal the sacred bay. 
Where bowmr callSy and jnstioe pomts the way ; 



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WARTON'S POEM& 



To w«ar the welUeam'd wreath that merit brings. 
And snatch a^gtft beyond the reach of kingt. 
Scorning and scom'd by courts, yon Mase*s bower 
Still nor enjoys, nor seeks, the smile of power. 
Though wakeful Vengeance watch my crystal spring 
Though Persecution wave her iron wing, 
And, o'er yon spiry temples as she flies, 
** These destined seats be mine,"" exulting cries ; 
Fortune's fair smiles on Isis still attend : ^ 
And, as the dews of gracious Heaven descend 
Unask'd, unseen, in still but copious sbow'rs, 
Her stores on me spontaneous Bounty pours. 
See, Science walks with recent chaplets crown'd ; 
With £incy's strain my fairy shades resound ; 
My Muse divine still keeps her custom'd state. 
The mien erect, and high majetic gait : 
Green as of old each oliv'd portal smiles, 
And still the Graces bulid my Greeiao piles : 
My Gothic spires in igieient glory rise, 
And dare with wonted pride to rush into the skies. 

E'en late, when Radcliife's delegated train ^ 
Auspicious shone in Isis' happy plain : 
When yon proud dome, fair Learning's amplest 

shrine, 
Beneath its Attic roofe receiv'd the Nine ; 
Was Rapture mute, or ceas'd the glad acclame. 
To Radcliife due, and Isis' honour'd name } 
What free-bom crowds adom'd the festive day, 
Nor blvsh'd to wear my tributary bay ! 
How each brave breast with honest anlonrs heav'd. 
When Sheldon's fane ^ the patriot band receiv'd ; 
While, as we loudly haii'd the chosen few, 
Rome's awful senate rusVd upon the view ! 

may the day in latest annals shine, 
That made a Beaufort and an flarley mine : 
That bade them leave the loftier scene awhile, 

^ The pomp of guiltless state, the patriot toil, 
Por bleeding Albion's aid the sage desisfn. 
To hold short dalliance with the tuneful nine. 
Then Music left her silver sphere on high, 
And bore each strain of triumph from the sky ; 
Swdl'd the loud song, and to my chjefs around 
Pour'd the full paeans of mellifluous sound. 
My Naiads blithe the dying accents caught. 
And listening danc'd beneath their pearfy grot i 
In gentjer eddies play'd my conscious wave, 
And all my reeds their softest whispers gave ; ^ 
Each Uiy with brighter green adom'd my bowers, 
And breath'da fresher fragrance on my flowers. 
But lo * at once the pealing concerts cease, 
And crowded theatres are huah'd in peace. 
See, on yon sage how all attentive stand, 1 1 1 

To catch his darting eye, and waving haiML 

1 The Radcliffe library was dedicated on the 13tfa 
of April, 1749 ; the same year in which this poem 
was written. The ceremony was attended l^ Cbarlef 
duke of Beaufort, Edward earl of Oxford, and tiv8 
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 
uUusions In the poem more intelligible, it is oeces^ 
sary to add, that the " sage" complimented ip 
Ter. 111. is Dr. King ; and " the puny champicm," 
and the *« parricide" of verses 131, and 136, i^ere 
designed fbr another member of the univeiyity, |f ith 
whom Dr. King was engaged in a controversy. 

3 The tbe«tre» built^afav. $b«]don lOioHt 1^70. 



Hark 1 he begins, witfa^all a TuUy's art. 

To pour the dictates of a Cato's heart : 

Skill'd to pronounce what noblest thoughts inspire. 

He blends the speaker's with the patriot's fire ; 

Bold to conceive, nor timorous to conceal, 

•What Britons dare to think, he dares to tdl. 

Th his alike th^ car and ^ye to charm. 

To win with action, and with sense to warm j 

Untaught in flowery periods to dispense 

The Mling sounds of sweet impertinence : 

In frowns or smiles he gains an equal prize. 

Nor meanly fears to fall, nor creeps to rise ; 

Bids happier days to Albion be restor'd. 

Bids ancient Justice rear her radiant sword; 

From me. as from my country, claims applause. 

And makes an Oxford^s, a Britannia's cause. 

While arms like these my stedfast sages wield. 
While mine Is Truth's impenetrable shield ; 
Say, shall the puny champion fondly dare 131 

To wage with force like this scholastic war } 
Still vainly scribble on with pert pretence, 
With all the rage of pedant impotence ? 
Say, flhall I foeter this domestic pest, 
This parricide, that wounds a mother's breast ! 

Thus m some gallant ship, that long has bore 
Britain's victorious cross from shore to shore. 
By chance, beneath her doae seqaester'd cells. 
Some low-bom worm, a lurking mischief dwelli j 
Eats his blind way, and saps with secret guile 
The deep foundations of the floating pile : 
In vain the forest lent its stateliest pride, 
ReaHd her tall mast, and fram'd her knotty side ^ 
The martial thunder's rage in vain she stood, 
Witli every conflict of the stormy flood ; 
More sure the reptile's little arts devour. 
Than wars, or waves, or Eurus' wintry power* 

Ye fretted pinnacfes, ye fanes sublime. 
Ye towers that wear the mossy vest of time ; 
Ye massy piles of old munificence. 
At once the pride of learning and defence ; 
Ye cloisters pale, that tengthening to the sight. 
To contemplation, step by st^, invite ; 
Ye high-arch*d walks, where oft the whispers clear 
Of harps unseen have swepi tl|« poet's ear ; 
Ye temples dim, where pious duty pays 
Her holy hymns of ever-echoing praise ; 
Lo ! yoiu- lov'd Isis, itom the bordering iqite. 
With all a mother's fondness bids you nan ! — 
Hail, Oyford, hail I of all that's good and gfvafe^ 
Of aU thaes fair, the guardian and <be seat ; 
Nurse of eaeh bvatie pursuit, each fpsnsMHis eiot. 
By tmth eaodtod to the throne of ftoM | 
like Greece in science and in liberty, 
Ai Athens leam'd, as Laoedemon fi^ ; 

Ev'n now, coofess'd tp my adoring eyes. 
In aw&l ranks thy gifted sons arise* 
Tuning to knightly tale his British reeds, 
Thy genuine baxds immortal Cbauder l^dl : 
His hoary head overlooks the gazing quire. 
And beams on all around celestial fire. 
With' graceful step see Addi^nadvance^ 
The sweetest ohild ci Attic elegance : 
See Chillingworththe depths cSt doubt explore. 
And Seldon ope the rolls of ancient lore ; 
To all but his belov*d embrace deny'd^ 
See Locke lead KeasoP^ his majestic |^iide: 
See Hammond pierce religion's golden mine. 
And spread U)e tfOMiur'd stpMi ci\piXk dinae. 



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£U»Y. 



91 



All vlio to AUnoii gafii thft aHiof peaoe, 
And best the labours plaiin*d of letter'd eaat; 
Who tBogfat with tjntb, or with penuasioD nMv'4 ; 
Who smooth^ with Dttmben, or with lease improvM; 
Who nog'd the powen of raatoD, or rsfin'd, * 
All that fldom'd or buinaBJB'd the mlhd ; 
Exfa priett of health, that mix'd the balmy bowl. 
To rear frail man, and sUy the fleeting gomI ; 
All cnnrd aioaiid, and echoing to the «ky, 
" Hail, Oxford, bail!*' with fliial transport ory. 

And see yon sapient train ! with libeial aim, 
T«is tbein new plans of libarty to frame j 
Aad OQ the Gothic gloom of slavbh sway 
To shed the dawn of intelleetiial day. 
With nild debate each musing fisature glows, 
And well-veigfa'dcounsels mark tbeirmeaning bcoav. 
" Lo ! these the leaders of thy patriot line/' 
A Raleigh, Hampden, and a Somen shine. 
These from thy souroe the bold contagion cauc^ 
Th<Hr future sons the great example taagbt : 
White io each youth th' hereditary flame 
Sciil hlazes, unextinguished and the same! 

Nor all the tasks of thoughtful peace engage, 
Tb thine to form the hero as the sage. 
1 <ce the sahto-Huited prince advance 
With lilies crowned, the spoils of Ueediog Fraiioe, 
Edvaid. Th6 Muses, io yon oloisUr'd shttde ^ 
Bnmd on his maiden thigh the maitkl blade ; 
Bade him the steel for Briti&h freedom draw, 
Aad Oxfoid taught the deeds that Cressy saw. 

And see, great &ther of the sacred band, 
The patriot king * before roe seems to stand. 
He by the Uoom of this gay vale beguil'd. 
That cfacer'd with livtfly green the shaggy wild. 
Hither of yore, Ibrlom forgotten maid. 
Hie Muse in prattling infancy conveyM ; 
From Vandal rage the helpl«s virgin bore. 
And fix*d her cradle on my firiendly shore : 
^joo grew the maid beneath his fostering band. 
Son streamed her blessings o'er the enlightan'd land. 
Though simple was the dome where first to dwell 
S'le deigned, and rude her early Saxou cell» 
1a ! Dov she holds her state in sculptured bowen, 
Aod [M'oadly lifts to Heav*n her liuodred towers. 
IVu Alfred first, with letters and with laws, 
Ad3m*d,,as he advanced, his country's cause : 
He hade relent the Briton's stubboro soul. 
And sooth'd to soft society's control 
AitMigh onttttorM age. With raptured eye 
£late be views his laureled progeny : 
Soene be smiles to find, that wtt in vain 
He ibna*d the rudime<|^ of learning's rcigp : 
Himself be mariu in each ingenuous bn^ast, 
With bH the founder in the nee exprest : 
CmcxNis he sees fiur Freedom still survive; 
Ib jm bi^t domes, ill-fated fugitive ! 
t^^orimis, as wJmd the goddess pour'd the beam 
t'osalUed on his ancient diadam ; ) 
^elWplens'd, that at his own Piariao springs 
She nxAs her wegaj foet, imd plumes her wings ; 
T^ here at last she takes her dastin*d stand. 
Here deigns to lingerf ere she leave th« land. 

'Edward the Black Prince, was » member of 
Om e n 's Cettege ; perhaps ou€ of compliment to 
IIk Mar fanadatioif, whidi was denominated after 
Us mother, queen Philippa. 

^Alfirad. The traditkm respecting the fooqda- 
tttofthtonhrenityerOiford byhhnb well known. 



ELEGY 

ON TBB ]«ATB 01 T«B LATS 

FREDEiaC PRINCE OF WALES. 
(warmiN w 1751.) 

O FOR the waifolings of the Doric ote. 
That wept the youth deep-whelm'd in ocean's tide ! 
Or MuUa's Muse, who chang'd her magic jaote 
To chant how dear the laurel'd Sidney died ! 
Then should my woes io worthy strain be sung, 
And with due cypress-crown thy herM, O Frederic, 

hung. 
But though my novioe-hands ase all too weak 
To grasp the Bounding pipe, my voioa naskMPd 
The tuneful phrase of poaay to tptak. 
Uncouth the cadence of my car^ wild j 
A nation's tears shall teach my song to iiaos [gnaoe. 
The prince that dech'd his crown with eveiy milder 
Host well he knew to turn from flattery's shrine. 
To drop the sweeping pall of soepter'd pride; 
Led by calm thought to paths of eglantine, 
And rural walks on Isis* tufled skle ; 
To rove at large amid the landscapes still, [hill f 
Where Conten^lation sate on €liftlen's beech-dad 
How, lock'd in pure affection's golden band. 
Through sacred wedlock's unambitious ways, 
WHh even step he walk*d, and constant hand. 
His temples binding with domestic bays : 
Rare pattern of the chaste connubial knot. 
Firm in a palace kept, as in the clay-built cot ! 
How with discerning choice, to nature true. 
He cropp'^ the^mple flowers, or violet. 
Or crocu&-bud, that with ambrosial hue 
The banks of silver Helicon beset.: 
Nor seldom wak'd tbe Muse's living lyre 
To 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 boaid 
Soothing with vene divme the toil of state ! 
Hence fir*d, the bard forsook the flowery plain, 
And deck*d the regal mask, and tried the tragic strain. 



ON THK DEATH OV 

KIKG GEORGE THE SECOND. 

TO MR. SECRETARY PriT '. 

(warrraK in IT61.) 

So stream the sorrows that embalm tbe brave. 
The tears that Science sheds on GUory's grave I 
So pure the vows which classic duty pays 
To bless another Brunswick's rising rays ! 

O Pitt, if chosen sUains have power to steal 
Thy watchful breast awhile from Britain's weal ; 
If votive verse ficom sacred lua sent 
Might hope to charm thy manly miad, iaient 
On patriot plans, whieh ancieot freedom drew. 
Awhile with fond attention deign to view 

A AAtrward* loid Chatham, This and (te twe 
foUcwiog poems, dose the oelleotinns of Oxford 
Verses on thfeir respective occasions; and were 
written while the author was poetry professor. kf\ 



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9t 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



This ample wreath* which all th' assembled nine 
With skill united have coospir'd to twine. 

Yes, gaide and guardiaD of thy country's cause * 
Thy cqubckms heart shall hail with just applause 
The duteous Muse, whose haste officious brings 
Her blameless offering to the shrine of kings : 
Thy tongue, well tutor'd in historic lore. 
Can speak her office and her use of yore : 
Tm such the tribute of ingenuous praise 
tier harp dispensed in Greeia's golden days ; 
Such were .the palms, in isles of old renown, 
She cull'd, to deck the guiltless monarch's crown ; 
WheuTtrtnous Pindar told, with Tnscan gore 
How scepter'd Hiero stainM Sicilians shore. 
Or to mild Theron't * raptur'd eye dtsclos'd 
Bri^t Tales, where spirits of the brave reposM : 
Yet still beneath the throne, unbrib'd, she sale. 
The decent handmaid, not the slave, of state ^ 
Pleas'd in the radiance of the regal name 
To blend the lustre ot her country's fa^e : 
For, taught like ours, she dar^d, with prudent pride. 
Obedience from dependence to divide : 
Though princes clahn'd her tributary lays. 
With truth severe she tempered partial praise j 
Conscions she kept her native dignity, 
Bold as her flight^ and as her numben free. 

And sure if e'er the Muse indulged her strains. 
With just regard, to grace heroic ragns, 
Where could her glance a theme of triumph own 
80 dear to fame as George's trophied throne } 
At whose firm base, th j stediast soul aspires 
To wake a mighty nation's ancient ftres : 
Aspires to baffle nction's specious claim. 
Rouse England's lage, 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. 
OilI'd by thy voice, nor deaf to war's alarms. 
Its willing youth the rural empire arms : 
Again the lords of Albion's cultnr'd plains 
March the firm leaders of their faithfiil swains ; 
As erst stout archers, from the farm or fold, 
Flam'd in the van of many a baron bold. 
Nor thine the pomp of indolent debate. 
The war of words, the sophistries of state; 
Kor frigid caution checks thy free design, 
Nor stops thy strpam of eloquence divine : 
For thine the privilege, on few bestowed. 
To feel, to thmk, to speak, for 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. 
But spirit prompts, and valour strikes, the blow. 
O Pitt, while honour points thy liberal plan, 
And o'er the minister exalts the man, 
Isis congenial greets thy faithful sway. 
Nor scorns to bid a statesman grace her lay. 
For 'tis not hefs, by fiJse connectkms drawn. 
At splendid Slavery's sorind shrine to fawn ; 
Each native efibrt of the feeling breast. 
To friends, to foet, in eqnal fear, supprest : 
Tis not for her to purchase or pursue 
The pbantom fimmrs of the cringing crew : 

s Agreeably to the character given of him, 
Olymp. iL 165. and following verses. Tbetgn was 
tyrant of Agrigentom $ his Tietoriet arecekhnted 
in the 3d and 3d Olyminc Odes. 



More usefbl toils her studious hours engag^f, 
And fairer lessons fill her spotless page : 
Beneath ambition, but above dfsgrace. 
With nb\>ler arts she forms the rising race : 
With happier tasks, and less refin'd pretence, 
In elder times,* she woo'd Munificence : 
To rear her arched roofs in rqgal guise, 
And lift her temples nearer to the skies ; 
Princes and prelates stretch'd the social hand, 
To form, diffuse, and fix, her high command : 
From kings sheclaim'd, yetscom'd to seek, the prizc^ 
From kings, like George, benignant, ju$t, and wise. 

Lo, this Jier gentiine lore. — ^Northou refuse 
This humble present of no partial Mu<e [yowth * 
From that calm bower, which nurs'd thy thoughtful 
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 unblemisb'd Somers saw : 
Where once (for well she lov'd the friendly gtove 
Which every .classic grace had leam'd to rove) 
Her whispers wak'd sage Harrington to feign 
The blessings of her visionary reign ; 
That reign, which, now no more an empty themes 
Adorns Philosophy's kleal dream. 
But crowns at last, beneath a George's smile. 
In full reality this fisvoar'd isle. 



MARRIAGE OF THE KING. 

(warrTBH in 1761.) 
TO HER MAJESTY. 

Whbm fint the kingdom to thy virtues due 
Rose from the billowy deep in distant view ; 
When Albiota'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 fiiir prospect of thy promis'd reign ! 

And well with conscious joy thy breast mi^t beat 
That Albion was ordani'd thy regal seat : 
Lo ! this the land, where Freedom's sacred rage 
Has glow'd untam'd through many a martial age. 
Here patriot Alfred, stain'd with Danish blood, 
Rear'd on one base the king's the people's ^md : 
Here Henry's arohers fram'd the stubborn bow. 
That laid Alanzon's haughty helmet low; 
Here wak'd the flame, that still superior braves 
The proudest threats of Gaul's ambitiotts slaves : 
Here Ouvaliy, stem school of valour old 1, 
Her noblest feats of knightly fSune enroU'd ; 
Heroic champions caught the clarion's call. 
And throng'd the feast in Edward's banner'd ball ; 
While chiefs, like George, approv'd in worth alone, 
Unlock'd chaste Beauty's adamuntme zone. 
Lo 1 the fam'd isle, which hails thy chosen sway. 
What fertile fields her temperate suns display ! 
Where Property secures the conscious swain. 
And guards, while Plenty gives, the golden grain: 

3 Trinity Collie, Oxford : in which aim kxd 
Somers, and James Harringtoi^ author of the 
Oceana, were educated. fV, 

1 Alluding to the mstitutkm of the order of the 
purter at Windsor by Edward UL in 1350. 



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ON THE BIRTH OP TH£ PUNCE OF WALES. 



» 



ReDoe vMiriipe itores her TQlagCi abooad, 
Her airy downs with •cattef'd sheep resoand; 
Frsh are her pestum willi anoeasing rills, 
Aad fotare nevies crourn her darksome hilla. 
To betr her formidable glory fiur, 
BehoU her opulence of hoarded war ! 
Sttf from her ports a thousand banners stream ; 
Os every coaKt her vengeful lightnrags gleam ! 
Meaotiaie, remote from Ruin's armed hand* 
Id pesoefiil majesty her cities stand ; 
Wkow splendid domes, and bosy streets, declare, 
Thar finnest fort, a knig*8 parental care. 

And O ! blest qneeo, if e'er the magic powers 
Of varblsd troth have won thy nrasing boars j 
new Poesy, from awelul days of yore, 
Has pouM her genoine gifts of raptoi^ lore. 
Mid gsken howen, with holy verdure wreath'd, 
la Dnud.soogs her solemn spirit breathed : 
Wbtle conniag bards at ancient banquets sung 
Of paynini Iom defied, and trophies hung. 
Here Spenser tan'd his mystic minstrelsy, 
Aaddiess'd in &iry robes a queen like thee. 
Here, boUly maik'd with every living hoe, 
Xihiie's nnbowided portnil Shakespeare drew : 
ht chief, the dreadful groope of human woes 
Tbe daring artisc's tragic pencil chose ; 
Eiplor*d the pangs that rend the royal breast, 
IkK woonds tbat lurk beneath the tissued vest ! 
U! this the land, whence Milton*s Muse of fire 
ffigli soared tq steal from Heav'n a seraph's lyro: 
AodtoU the golden ties of wedded love 
la acred £dui's amaranthine grove. 

Thine tooi majestic bride, the favour'd clime, 
^^^liere Science aits enshrin'd in roofii sublime. 
msik, how green her wood of ancient bavs 
0^9 tais' marge in many a chaplet strays 1 
Thither, if haply some distinguishM fiower 
or these mix*d blooms from tbat ambrosial bdwer, 
Hjght catch thy glance, and rich in Nature's hue, 
Entvioe thy diadem with honour doe ; 
If Meoriy gifis the train of Phebos pay, 
To deck imperial Hymen's festive day ; 
l^ither thyself shall haste, and mildly deign 
Totread with nymph-like slep4he conscious plain *, 
Pksi'd in the Muse'a nook, with decent pride, 
To throw tiM scepte^d pall of state aside : 
^fnm the shade shall George be long away, 
Thst dsins Charfetto's love, and conrU her stay. 

These are Britannia's praises. Deign to trace 
With rs^ rdlection Freedom's fevourite race ! 
Bat though the generoos isle, in arts and arms, 
1^01 skanl soprenie, in Nature's choicest channs ; 
Ihsmli Qeoige and Conquest guard her sea-girt 



Oae hsppier hisssing still she calls her own ; 
Asd, prood to coll the feirest wreath of Fame, 
Ooav her chief honours with a Charlotte's nai 



OM TU BUTB 09 

TUM PUNCB OP WJLBSL 

(vtnm Arm tbi ivsTAUikTioir at wimmos, ik 

nu SAMS TSAi, 1762.) 

larsiuidome of Edward, ^ wias and brave ! 
When warlike Uooour's brightest banms wave; 

^ Windsor Osatk^ Uuh by Sdvaid UL 



At whose prood tilts, unmatched fbr hardy daeds^ 
Heroic kings have frown'd on bariied steeds, 
Though now no more thy crested clue6 advance 
In arm'd array, nor grasp the glittering lance ; 
Though knighthood boaRtsthe martial pompnomore^ 
That grac'd its gorgeous festivals of yore ! 
Say, conscious dome, if e'er thy manhali'd knights 
So nobly deck'd their old majestic rites, 
As when, high thron'd amid thy trophled shrine, 
George shone thdMpular of the garter'd lUie } 

Yet future triumphs, Windsor, still remain : 
Still may thy bowers receive as brave a trun : 
For lo 1 to Britain and her favour'd pair, 
Heaven's high command has sent a sacred heir f 
Him the bold pattern of his patriot sire 
Shall fill with early feme'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 cooseioas 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 tbe young champion's musing mind shall raise 
Vast images of Albion's elder days. 
While, as around his eager glance explores 
Thy chambers, roug^ with war's constructed stores. 
Rude helms, and bruised shields, barbaric spoils 
Of ancient chivalry's undaunted toils ; 
Amad tbe^dusky trappings hung on high 
Young Edward's sable mail shall strike his eye ; 
Shall fire the yootb, to erown his riper years 
With rival Ciessys, and a new Poitwrs ; 
On the same iQdl, the same triumphal base, 
HSs own victorious monuments to place. 

Nor can a fiairer kindred title mom 
His emulative age to gksry's love 
Than Edward, laureate prince. In letter'd truth, 
Oxfofd, sage mother, schoolM his studious youth i 
Her simple institutes, and rigid lore. 
The royal nunling nnreluctant bore ; 
Nor shnnn'd, at pensive eve, with lonesome pace 
The cloister's moonlight-chectoer'd floor to trace ; 
Nor soom'd to mark the Sun, at mattinsdoe. 
Stream through the storied window's holy hue. 

And O, young prince, be thine his moral prtuse; 
Nor seek in fieM^ of Mood his warrior bays. 
War has its charms terrific Far and wide 
When stands th' embattled host in banner'd pride ; 
O'er the vest plain when the shrill clangors run. 
And the long phalanx flashes Hi the Sun ; 
When now no dangers of thedeathfiil day 
Mar the bright scene, nor break the firm array ; 
Full oft, too rashly glows with fond delight 
The youthftil breast, and asks the future fight ; 
Nor knows that Horroor's form, a spectre wan. 
Stalks, yet unseen, along the gledmy van. 

May no such rage be thine r nodazzlbgray 
Of speckms fame thy stedfest feet betray. 
Be thine domestio glory's radiant calm. 
Be thine the sceptre wreath'd with many a pabn ; 
Be thine the throne with peaceful emblems hung, 
Tbe silver lyre to milder conquest strung ! 

Instead of glorkms feats achiev'd in arms. 
Bid firing ails display their mimie diaims I 



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WARTOm POEMS. 



' JusC to Ihy eomday^B hmt, m InaqQil dayt. 
Record the ytat, and rouw to future praise t 
Before the public eye, io breetbing braai. 
Bid thy fitim'd lather's nigbty triumphs pan : 
Svell the broad arch with haughty Coba*s (Ml, 
And clotbe with Minden's plain th' bistonc ball. 
Then mourn not^ Edwaid*« dome, thii 
boast^ 

Thy toumamentsy and listed eombats kwt I 
!trom Arthur's board, no more, ptoud castle, mourn 
Adventuroue Valour*s Gothic trophies torn ! 
Those elfin oharms, that held in magic night 
Its elder fame, and dimm'd its genuine light, 
At leqgth dissolve in truth's meridian ray, 
And the bright order bursts to perfect day : 
The mystic round ^, hegirt with bolder peers, 
On virtue's base its rescued glory fears; 
Sees Civil Prowess mightier acts achieve, 
Sees meek Humanity distress relieve ; 
Adopts the worth that bids the confiict cease. 
And clakos its honours from the chiefii of peace. . 




SIR JOSHUA Bi:iriiaLDd'9 paxntkd window. 

AT mw COLUHSS, OZPOKOb 
(witlTTEH IN 1782.) 

An, stay (hy treacbanms hand, forbear to tmee 
, Those ftnrftless ibnns of elegance and grace ! 
* Ah, cean to sprsad the bright tmnspareiit mass, 
With Utian's peocti, o'er the speaking glass ( 
Nor 8tea)> by strokes of art with titith oombin'd. 
The fond illuskms of my wayward mind ! 
For long enamoiir*d of a bartsmNis age, 
A faithless truant to the otasBic page | 
Long hate I lotr'd to catch the simple chima 
Of minstreUharps, and ^11 the fisblhig rbime ; 
To view the festive rHas, the knightly ^y, 
That deck'd heroic Albion's eider day ; 
To mark the mouldermg halls of bafons boldy 
And the raogb castle^ ca<t in giant monM ; 
With Gothic niamiefs Gothic arts eiKpfore, 
And muse on the magnifknaoe of yore. 

But chief, enraiitar'd have I lov'd to mam, 
A lingering votary, the vaulted dome, 
Where .the tall shofls^ that meant in mas0y pride, 
Their mingling branches shoot fttMn side to tide $ 
Whera elfin soolptors, with fotitastic clew, 
O'er the long roof their wiM embroMery drew j 
Where Superstition with caprieiQus hand 
In mawy a maze the wreethed window picnn'd, 
With hvosM Tontantic ting'd the gorgeous pane, 
To fill with hdy light the wondrous fline $ 
To aid the bunder's models richly rade. 
By no Vitrnvian symmetry subdu'd ; 
To svit the genias of the mystic pile : 
Whilst as around tHe far reHring He, 
And fretted shrinei, with hoary trophies hang. 
Her dark ilhirohiatioR wide she flong, 

3 Arthur's round table, called six verses before, 
" Arthur's board." Tradition considers the oidcr 
of the Garter, as a revival of Arthur's fiibled institv 
tion of the nmod table. 



With new soiennity, the nooks pMbnnd, * 

The caves of death, and the dim an^es fiomi'd. * 
From bliss long felt unwillingly we part : i 

Ah, spare the weakness of a lover's heart ! * 

Cha3e not the phantoms of my foiry dream, ^ 

Phantoms thai shriidc at reason's painfal gletm ( n 
That softer touch, insidoos aitist, stay, t 

Nor to new joys my straggling breast betray ! i 

Such, was a pensive bard's mistaken strsin.— '■ 
But, oh, pf ravish'd plnoures why complain } i 

No more the matchless skiU I call unkind, y. 

Tliat strive* to disenchant my cheated mind* 
For when again I view thy chaste design, 
The just proportion, and the genuine line; 
Those native portntitures of Attic art. 
That from the lucid surface seem to start ; i 

Those tints, that steal no glories from the day, .v 

Nor ask the Sun to lend his streaming ray : 
The doubtful radiance of contending dies, 
That faiutly mingle, yet distinctly rise ; 
'Twixt light and shade the transitory strife; 
The fcAture Uooraiog with ioDmortal life : 
The stole in casual foldingB taught to iknr. 
Not wkb ambitMMis omaments to gkm f 
The tread majestic, and the beamnlg eye, , 

That lifted speaks its commerce with the sky ; 
Heaven's golden emanation, gleaming mild 
O'er the mean cradle of the Virgm't. child > ; 
Sudden, the sombrous imagery is fled, > 

'Whkb late my visionary rapture fed^ 
iThy powerful band has broke the Gothic chain, 
Und brought my bosom back to truth again ; 
^'o truthr by no peculiar taste oonfin'd, i 

•Whose universal pattern strikes mankind ; 
nTo truth, whose bold and unresisted aim 
jCheoks f^il caprice, and foshwn's fickla claim $ 
To truth, whose charms deoeptioa's magic quell. 
And bind coy Fancy in a stronger spell. 

Ye brawny prophets, that in robes ao rich. 
At distance doe, possess the crisped nich 9 
Ye rows of patriarchs, that sublimely reaHd 
Diffuse a proud primeral length of beasid : 
Ye saints, who, clad in crimson's bright amy» 
More pride than hmnUc poverty display : 
Ye virgins meek, that wear the pAhny crown 
Of patient fekh, and yet so flereely frown : 
Ye angeb, that from clouds of gold vecUne« 
But bMst DO semblance to a race divine : 
Ye tragic tales of legendary lore. 
That draw devotioo's ready tear no more ; 
Ye martyidoms of nnenlighten'ddays. 
Ye rairaclss^ that now no wonder raise : 
Shapes, that with one broad ghwa the gaaoer strike. 
Kings, bishops, nuns, apostles, all alike ! 
Ye colours, that th' unwary wiffitt amaze. 
And only daozle in the noonlMe Uaae ! 

1 Sir Joshua Reynolds, in hts design for New Col- 
lege window, imitated the famous *< Notte " of 
Correglo, in the ducat palace at Modena, wherein 
the whole light of the pietora is made to proceed 
from the body of the infent Qirist. " which" (as 
Spenser describes a golden image of Cupid, F. O. lU. 
ai. 47.) " with his own light ^toeS.'* There are in 
Oxford two copies of this estehrafesd piotore by 
Corregie ; one 10 Chieen's College dmpel fay Ant 
Raf. Mengs ; and the other by Carlo Cigoano ia 
Gen. Gu'ise'4 coUaetfon «t Cb. Ch. 



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MONODY. . . W-EASCRES OP MELANCHOLY. 



9S 



No more the tacred windov^t TOdM disgnee* 
Bat yidd to Grecian groupes the sinning space. 
Ut from the canvas Beanty shifts her throne, 
Lo^ Picture's powers a new formation own ! 
fidiold, she prints upon the crystel plain, 
With her own energy, fh^ expressire stain ! 
The misrtity master spreads his mimic toil 
MoR wide, nor only blends the breathing oil ; 
Bat calls the lineaments of lifie compleat 
Fitm genial alchymy's creative heat ; 
OMienl forms to the bright fnsion gWes, 
While in the warm enamel Nature lires. 

Reynolds, tis thine, from the broad window's 
Td add new Inatre to religions light : [height, 

Not of its pomp to strip this ancietit shfine, 
Bui hid that pomp with purer radiance shine r 
With arts unknowti before, to reconcile 
Hie wiOiqg Graces to the Gothic pile. 



MONODY, 

wirmir Mcxa sTKATPOan upom avom. 

(pvatisHBD m TBB EniTioM of 1777.) 

Ato!i, thy lunU views, thy pastures wild. 

The willows that o'erhang thy twiight edge» 

Tbttf biiughs eolangling with th^ embattled sedge ; 

Tby brink with wsteiy foliage qtiaintly firing'd. 

Thy surface with lefiected ▼erdnre ting'd ; 

So^ me with many a pensive pleasure mild. 

But while I mnse, that here the bard divine, 

WboK sacred dust yon high-arch*d iles encloie. 

Where the tall windows rise in stately rows 

iboveth* embowering shade. 

Here Best, at Fancy's fiiiry-drcled shrine. 

Of daisies pied his ioiant offering made ; 

Here playfnl yet, in stripling years nnripe, 

FiunM of Ay reeds a shrill and artless pipe : 

Sodden thy beaoties, Avon, all are fled, 

ii It the waving of some magic wand; 

Aa holy trance my charmed spirit wings, 

Aod awful sbapet of warriors and of kings 

People the busy mead. 

Like speetres swarming to the wizard's hall ; • 

iaddowly pace» and point with trembling band 

The wnunds Ul-oovei'd by the purple pall. 

Mffe me Pity aeens to aland 

A weeping moofaer, smote with anguish sore, 

Toiee A^oftnne rend Ifl frantic mood 

Bis rohe, with regal wnes embooider'd o*er. 

Pale Terrav leads the wisiomiry band, 

Asd itottly thaket his soeptn, dtt)ppiDg blood. 



PLEASURES OF MEJLASCHOtY. 



PraMapelognbKfl- 



(vinmi iw 1745, th» aothor's 17th r<AR, 
rvausava AnanriiovsLY in 1747,) 

Honn of moBiigB, Cbntemplatkm tage, 
^^boK gntio stands upon the topmost rock 



OfTenerUT; ^mid the tempeatnouf night, 
On which, in calmest mediation held, 
Thou hear'sl with howHng whids the beating rafat 
And driftmg hail descend j or if the skies 
Unclouded shine, and thro' the blue serene 
Pale Cynthia rolls' her silver-axled car, 
Whence gazing stadfast on the spangled vault 
Raptur'd thon sitt'st, while murmurs indistinct 
Of distant billows sooth thy pemlve ear 
With hoarse and hollow sounds ^ secure, self-blest, 
lliere oft thon liaten*st to the wild uproar 
Of fleets enco nnt' r i ng, that in whispers low 
Ascends the rocky summit, where thon dwelt'st 
Remote from man, conversing with the spheres f ' 
O lead me, queen sublime, to solemn gtooma 
Congenial with my soal ; to cheerless shadea. 
To min'd sents, to twjltgfat eells and boWrs, 
Whertf fhonghtful Melancholy loves to mosei 
Her fav'rita midnight haunts. The langtring soettet 
Of purffe Spring, « here alhthe wanton train 
Of Smiles mA Graces seem to lead the danee 
In sportive round, while from their hand they shtmV 
Ambrosial Mocniu and flow'rs, no longer charm ; 
Tempo, no more I court thy balmy breeze. 
Adieu green vales ! ye broider'd meads, adieu ? 
BeneMh yon min'd abbey's moss-grown pilea 
Oft let hie sit, at twilight hour of eve. 
Where thro' some western ifhidow the pale Moon 
Pours her long-levelPd rule of streaming light j 
While sullen sacred sHenoe reigns arouml, 
Save the lone screech-owl's note, who bnitds his bow^r 
Amid the raouid>iog caverns darli atid damp. 
Or tfa^ eahn bree^^e, that rustles in the leaves 
Of flaunting ivy, that with mantle green 
Invests some wasted towV. Or let me tread 
Its neighb'ring walk df pines, where mus'd of old 
The cloyster'd brothers : thro' the gloomy void 
That far extends beneath their ample arch 
As on I pace, religions homur wraps 
My soul in dread repose. But when the worid ^ * 
Is cImI in Midnight's raven colour'd robe, 
'Mid hollow chamel let me watch the flame 
Of taper dim, shedding a livid glare j 

O'er the wan heaps ; while airy voices talk . ! 

Along the gtimm'ring walls ; or ghostly shnper J 
At distance seen, invites with beck'ning hand . 

My lonesome steps, thro' the far^winding vattlti. i 
Nor nndeligfatfnl is the solemn noon A 

Of night, when haply wakeful frooi my conch 
I start : lo, all is motionless aroond ! » 

Roars ndt the rushing wind ; the sons of men 
And every beast in mute oblirion lie ; 
All nature's hush'd in silence and in sleep. ^ 

O then how fearful is it to reflect. 
That thro' the still globe'd awfol 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 leail thro' flow'ry paths of joy ; 
But let the sacred genius of the night 
Such mystic visions send, as Spenser saw, 
When thro' bewlld'ripg Fancy's magic maxe'. 
To the iell house of Bnsyranb, he led 
Th' unshaken Britomart ; or Milton knew. 
When in abstracted thought he fidt conoeiv'd 
All Heav'n Ih tamnit, and the seraphim 
Come tow'ring, arm'd in adamant and gold. 

Let otherlr love soft Summer's ev'ning smilei 
As list'ning to the distant water-fall. 



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96 



WART0N9 POEMS. 



They mark the Undies of the i^bftaky west ; 
1 choose the ptle Deoember't foggy glooms. 
Then, when the sullen shades of ev*nuig close. 
Where thro' the room a bliodly-gUmm'ring gleam 
The dying embers scatter, fiur remote [roof 

From Mirth's mad shouts/ that tHro^ th> illumin'd 
Resound with festive echo, let me sH, 
Blest. with the lowly cricket's drowsy diige. 
Then let my thought contemplatiTe explore 
This fleeting state of things, Uie vain delights, . 
The fruitless toils, that still our search elude. 
As thro' the wilderness of life we rove. 
This sober hour of silence will unmask' 
False Folly's smile, that like the dazzling qiells 
Of wily Comus ch^t th' unweeting eye 
With blear illusion, and persuade to drink 
That charmed cop, which Reason's mintage feir 
Unmoulds, and stamps the monster on the man. 
Sager we taste, but in the luscious draught 
Forget the poisonous dregs that lurk beneath* 

Few know that elegance of soul refin'd. 
Whose soft sensation feels a quicker joy 
From Melancholy's scenes, than the dull pride 
Of tasteless splendour and magnificence 
Can e'er afibrd. Thus Eloise, whose mind 
Had languish'd to the pangs of melting love. 
More genuine transports found, as on some tomb 
Reclin'd, she waich'd the tapers of the dead ; 
Or thro* the pilhir'd iles, amkl pale shrines 
Of imag'd saints, and iiitenningled graves, 
Mus'd a vetl'd votaress ; than Flavia feels. 
As thro' the mazes of the festive tMiU, 
Proud of her conquering charms, and beauty's blaze. 
She floats amid the silken sons of drdss, 
And shines the feirest of tli' assembled fair. 

When azure noontide choers 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 uf ebon^soepter'd Hecat, hail 1 
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-train, 
; Far in obscured haunt of Lapland moors. 
With rhymes uncouth the bloody cauldron bless ; 
Tho' Murder wan beneath thy riirouding shade 
Soomions hw slow-ey'd vot'ries to devise 
Of secret slaughter, while by one blue lamp 
In hideous cooPrence sits the list'niog band, 
And start at each low wiml, or wakefol sound : 
What tho' thy stay the pilgrim cursetli oft. 
As all benighted in Arabian wastes 
He heats the wilderness around him howl 
With roaming monsters, while on his hoar head 
The bfaMsk-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 saffron east 
She sheds fresh roses, and ambrosial dews. 
Yet not ungrateful u the Mom's approach. 
When dropping wet she comes, and clad in ckwds. 
While thro* the damp air scowls the louriog South, 
Blackening the landscape's fece, that grove and hill 
In forpnless vapours uodistingoish'd swim : 



Th' aflUcted songsters o£ the sadden*d graves 
Hail not the sullen gloom : the waving elma 
That, hoar thro' time and rang'd in thick array, 
Enslose with stately row some roral hall. 
Are mute, nor echo with the clamours hoarse 
Of rooks rejoicing on their airy boughs ; 
While to the shed the dripping poultry crowd, 
A OMMimful train : secure the tillage-hind 
Hangs o'er the crackling Maze, nor tempts the storm; 
Fa?d in th' unAuish'd ftirrow resU the plough : 
Rings not the high wood with enliven'd shouts 
Of early hunter : all is silence drear ; 
And deepest sadness wraps the face of things. 

Thro' Pope's soft song tho* all the Graces breaths^ 
And happiest art adorn his Attic page ; 
Yet does my mind with sweeter transport glow. 
As at the root of mossy trunk reclined, 
In magic Spenser's wildly-warbled song 
I see deserted Una wander wide 
Thro* wasteful solitudes, and lurid heaths, 
Weaiy, forlorn ; than wbon the fated feir 
Upon the bosom bright of silver Thames 
Lanches in all the lustre of brocade, 
Amkl the splendours of the laughing Sun. 
The gay description palls upon the sense, 
And coldly strikes the mind with feeble blis^. 

Ye youths of Albion's beauty-blooming isle. 
Whose brows have worn the wreath of luckless lore. 
Is there a pleasure like the pensive mood. 
Whose magic wont to soothe your soften'd souls ? 
O tell how rapturous the joy, t5 melt 
To Melody's assuasive voice ; to bend 
Th' uncertain step along the midnight mead. 
And pour your sorrows to the pitying Moon, 
By many a slow trill from the bird of woe 
Oft interrupted ; in embow'ring woods 
By darksome brook to muse, aiKl there forget 
The solemn dulaess of the tedious worid. 
While Fancy grasps the visionary feir : 
And now no more th' abstracted ear attends 
The water's munn'ring lapse, th' entranced eye 
Pierces no longer thro' th' extended rows 
Of thick-raog'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 nuuie 
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 che^ 
Graceful she lifts, and blushii^ finom her bov'r 
Issues to clothe in gUdsome-glist'riag green 
The genial globe, first met my dazzled sight : 
These are delights unknown to mhids 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 4roice' 
The many-sounding organ peals on high. 
The clear slow-dittied chant, or varied hymn. 
Till all my soul is bath'd in ecstasies. 
And lapp'd in paradise. Or jet me sit 
Far in sequester'd iles of the deep dome. 
There lonesome listen to the sacred sounds, 
Which, as they lengthen through the Gothic rault^ 
In holkyw murmura reach my ravish'd ear. 
Nor when the lamps ezpiriog jridd to night,^ • 
Andsolitude retuini, wookl I fonaks 



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INSCRIPTIONS. 



97 



IVe nlemn manskiii, bot ftttentive mark 

Tbe doe clock swioging slow with sweepy sway, 

Measuring time*9 fligrht with momentary sound. 

Nor let me £ul to cultivate my mind 
With the toft tbrilliogs of the tragic Muse, 
BiTine Melpomene, sweet Pity's uume, 
Qoeeo of tbe atately step, and flowing pall. 
Kow let Mooimia mourn with streaming eyes 
Her joys incestuous, and polluted love : 
N«v let soli Juliet in the gaping tomb 
Piint the last ki« on her true Romeo's lips, 
Hia lipt yet reeking from the deadly draught: 
Or Jaffler kneel for one forgiving look. 
Kor leldom let the Moor on'Desdemone 
Poor the misguided threats of jealous rage. 
By soft degrees the manly torrent steals 
From my svoln eye* ; and at a brother's woe 
My big heart melts in sympathizing tears. 

What are tbe splendours of tbe gaudy court, 
Its tinsel trapping and its pageant pomps ? 
To me fiu* happier seems the banish'd lord, 
imid Siberia's unrejoieiiig wilds 
Who pines all lonesome, in tbe chambers hoar 
Of tome high castle shut, whose windows dim 
la dirtant ken discover trackless plains, 
Where Winter ever whirls his icy car ; 
While mii r epe a ted olijects of his view. 
The gtoomy battlements, and ivied spires. 
That crown tbe solitary dome, arise ; 
While from the topmost turret the slow ctock, 
Ar besid aloog th' inhospitable wastes. 
With nd-retaming chime awakes new grief ; 
Br*B he far happier seems than is the proud. 
The peteot satrap, whom he left behind 
llid Moscow's golden palaces, to drown 
h ease and Iniuiry tbe laughing boors. 

nhMtrHms objects strike the gazer's mind 
With feeble bliss, and but allure tbe sight, 
Kor roose with impulse quick th' unfeeling heart* 
Thai teen by shepherd from Hymettus' brow, 
What dttdal huidacapes smile ! here palmy groves, 
Resounding once with Plato^s voice, arise. 
Amid whose nmbrage green her silver head 
Th' nofiading olive lifts; here vine-clad hills 
lay (iorth their purple store, and sunny vales 
Id prospec t vast their level laps expand, 
Aoiid whose beauties glistering Athens tow'ts. 
Iho* thro' tbe blissful scenes Ilissus roll 
His sage-inspiring flood, whose winding marge 
Hk thick -wove laurel shades ; tho' roseate Mom 
hnr all her splendoors on th' empurpled scene ; 
Tet feds tbe boary hermit truer joys. 
As finooi the cliffy that o'er his cavern hangs. 
He views tbe piles of feU'n Peisepolis 
In deep arrangement bide the darksome plain. 
Unbsonded waue ! the mould'ring obelisk 
Here, like a blasted oak, ascends the clouds ; 
Here Parian domes their vaulted halls disclose 
Horrid with, tbora, where lurks th' unpltying thief. 
Whence Aits tbe twilight-kmng bat at eve. 
And the deaf adder wreathes her spotted train. 
The dwellings onoe of elegance and art.- 
Here templa rise, amid whose hallow'd bounds 
Spires the Uaek {Hoe, while thro* the naked street, 
Chns faannt of tiadeful aaorobants, springe^ tbe grass : 
Here colnmna beap'd on prastiate oolnmns, torn 
fnm their firm base, inercase the mould'ring mass. 
Far as Hm sight can pierce, appear the spoils 
Of tank magaificeoce ! a blended scene 
Of moles, fenes^ arches, domes, and palaces, 
Vol. XVIIL 



Where, with his brother Horrour, Ruin sits. 
O come then. Melancholy, quaen of thought ! 
O come with saintly look, and stedfast step, 
From forth thy cave embf)wer'd with mournful yew. 
Where ever to the curfeu's solemn sound 
List'ning thon sitt'st, and with thy cypress bind 
Thy votary's hair, and s^l him for thy son. 
But never let Euphrosyne beguile 
With toys of wanton^ mirth my Cxed mind. 
Nor in my path her primrose-gmrland cast. 
Tho' 'mid ber train the dimpled Hebe bare 
Her rosy bosom to th' enamour'd view ; 
Tho' Venus, mother of the Smiles and Loves, 
And Bacchus, ivy-crown'd, in citron bnwV 
With her on nectar-8tnsamin<ir frtiitaf^ feast : 
What tho* 'tis hers tci calm the low 'ring skies. 
And at her presence mild th' embattled cloudi 
Disperse in ai^, and o'er the fiace of rieav'n 
New day diffusive gleam at her approach ? 
Yet are these joys that Melancholy gives. 
Than all her witless revels happier far ; 
These deep-felt joys, by Contemplatidn taught 

Then ever, b&iuteous Contemplation, hail \ 
From thee began, auspicious maid, my song, 
With thee shall end ; for titou art fairer far 
Than are the nymphs of Cirrba's mossy grot * ; 
To loftier rapture thou camt wake the thought. 
Than all the fabling poet's boasted powers. 
Hail, queen divine ! whom, as tradition tells. 
Once in his evening walk a Druid found, 
Far in a hollow glade c>f Mona's woodH ; 
And piteous bore with hospitable hand 
To the clo^e shelter of his oaken bow'r. 
There soon the sage admiring mark d the dawn 
Of solemn musing hi your pensive tliought ; 
For when a smiling babe, you lov'd to lie 
Oft deeply listening to the rapid roar 
Of wood-hung Meinai s, stream of Druids old. 



INSCRIPTIONS. 
INSCRIPTION IN A RERMlTAdB. 

AT ANSLCT HALL IN WARWICKSHIRE. 
(pUBLrSHBD IN 1777.) 

Bbnbatr this stony roof reclin'd 

I sooth to peace my peoKive mind ; 

And while, to shade my lowly cave. 

Embowering elms their umbraipe wave ; 

And while tlie maple dish is mine, 

The beechen cup, nnsuin'd with wtoe j 

I sooni the gay licentious crowd, . , 

Nor heed the toys that deck the proud. 

Within my limits lone and still 

The blackbird pipes in artle<$s trill ; 

Fast by my couch, congenial guest. 

The wren has wove her mossy nest ; 

From busy Krenes, and brierhter skies. 

To lurk with innocnce, slie di<*9: 

Here hopen in S'sfe repose to dwrll, 

Nor angbt suspects the sylvan cell. 

' The Muse«. T!ip town and phin of Hrrha, or 
Cyrrha, are iu Phocis, at the foot of Mount Par- 
nassus. 

» Menai, or Meneo, the s»mit wh-rh divides the 
isle of Anglesey from Caernarvijushire. 
li 



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9S, 



WARTON'S PO£MS. 



At morn I take my customed rouiul, 
'J'o mark liow buds yon shnibby mound. 
And every opening: primrose count, 
ITiat trimly paints my blooming moant : 
Or o'er tlie sculptures, qimint and rude. 
That grace my gloomy solitude, 
I Uach in winding wreaths to stray 
Fantastic ivy*8 gadding spray. 
At ere, within yon studious nook, 
I ope my brass-embossed book, 
Pourtray'd with many a holy deed 
Of martyrs, crownM with heavenly meed : 
Then ^ my taper waxes dim. 
Chant, ere I sleep, my nieasurM hymn ; 
And at the close, the gleams behold 
Of parting wings bedropt with gold. 
White such pure joys my bliss create. 
Who but would smile at guilty state ? 
Who but would wish his holy lot ' 
111 calm Oblivion's humble grot ? 
Who but woulfl cast his pomp away. 
To take my staff, and amice gray » ; 
And to the world's tumultuous stage 
Prefer the blameless hermitage ? 



isscniBEiy 



BEAUTIFUL GROITO NEAR THE WATERS. 
(published is 1*753.) 

Toe Graces sought in yonder stream 

To cool the fervid day. 
When Love's malicious godhead came. 

And stole their robes away. 
ProuJ of the theft, the little god 

Their robes bade Delia wear ! 
While they, asbamM to stir abroad. 

Remain all naked here. 



ISSCRJPTWN 

OVER A 

CALM AND CLEAR SPRING IN BLENHEIM 
GARDENS \ 

Here quench your thirst, and mark, in me 
An emblem of tni& charity ; 
Who, while my bounty I bestow. 
Am neither heard nor seen to flow. 

1 Gray clothing, fmaa. the Latin verb amicio, 
to clothe. 

s This inscriptioD is fbunded on the following in 
the Anthologia : 

De balneo in Smynra : 
E«Sali >JiftifUtm Xm^trm w«n, ^r»iX«t vtieXm 
Boist E^tH mA.1^^ jmu 9fX!iiT*n' rat )' i>J^ mtfrt9 
Tvf*mt, aiiafmas ^vfun urtr^f ifannmt, 1V\ xix. 11. 

The idea is not uncommon with the Greek epigram- 
mntbts ; see particularly AiAhoL IV. xv. 5. and 
xix. 18. 
3 This iiMcription has been attributed to Dr. 



EPlTAPff 



ON MR. MEAD. 

Ou spare his youth, O stay thy threat'ning hand, 
Nor break too soOn young wedlock's early baad ! 
But if his gentle and ingenuous mind. 
The generous temper, And the taste refinM, 
A soul uooonscious of corruption's stain. 
If learning, 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 fail, 
Let weeping faith and widow'd love prevail ! 



TRANSLATIONS 

AND 

PARAPHRASES. 
JOBy 

CHAFTSR XXXIX. 

(published in 1750, m thb studbmt.) 

Declare, if heav'nly wisdom bless thy tongue. 
When teems the mountain-goat with promis'4 

yoang; 
The stated seasons tell, the montli explain, 
When feels the bounding hind a mother's pain ; 
While, in th» oppressive agonies of birth. 
Silent they bow the sorrowing bead to earth ? 
Why crop tlieir 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 uncontrolM, unconscious of the rein } 
lis 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 liis voice ; 
At will on ev'ry various verdure fed. 
His pasture o'er the shaggy cliffi is spread. 

Will the fierce unicorn obey thy call. 
Enslav'd to man, and patient of the stall ? 
Say, will he stubborn stoop thy yoke to bear. 
And thro' the furi-ow drag the tardy share ? 
Say, canst thou think, O wretch of vain belief. 
His laboring 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 eyes. 
And all the bright diversity of dies ? 
Whose liand 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 tlie genial ray ; [blodd. 

Nor heeds, that «ome fell beast, who thirsts for 
Or the rude foot, may crush the futore brood. 
In her no love the tender offspring share. 
No soft remembrance, no matemfld care, 

Phanuel Bacon, fellow of Magdalen College, author 
of the Kite and of one or two pieces in the Oxford 
Sausage, but tlie insertion of it in the edition 
of Warton's Poems in 1791, arranged by himself 
and partly printed before bis death, may be consi- 
dered as afceitaiiuDg bim for the author. 



Digitized by LjOOQ IC 



TRANSLATIONS. 



99 



Rir Hod has iteerd ber unrelenting breast, 
.\W ktlmg Kate, nor instinct mild itnpicss^d, 
Ibde ber tiie rapid-rusbing steed despise, 
(h'4np the Hderte rage, and tow V amidst the skies. 
fJkk thou the horse with strength and beauty deck ? 
Hiist tbou in thunder cloth'd his nervous neck } 
VtW be, like gro^'cling grasshoppers afraid, 
^3A at each sound, at ev'ry breeze disinayM ? 
Aclondof fire his lifted nostrils raise, 
AiA blithe a glorious terroor a^^ they blaze. 
He pivs indignant, and the valley spurns, 
^•^ ic'in^ id his might, and f«>r tiic battle hums. 
^''bon quiwrs. rattle, and the fnjquent 8p<%r 
Fies iUsiiiug, leaps bis heart with languid fear ? 
^vaiioviDg with fierce and grecily rage the grouo'l, 
^ ^nU," he cries** the trumpet*s warlike sound r*' 
hitT be sceoCf the battle from afar, 
.\fid all the mingling thunder uf the war. 
^oes tbe fieice hawk by tby supreme command, 
To«k soft cliuatesy and a aoutltem land ? 
Win bade th* aspiring eagle mount the sky, 
had build her firm aerial nest on high ? 
•« the bare cliff, or mountain's shaggy steep, 
HfrfixticsB of defence she dares to keep ; 
"nnxY darts her radiant eye*s pervading ray, 
li^iisitireto ken the distant prey; 
"^^ with her thirsty brood th' eananguinM plain, 
I >Te bathes her beak in blood, companion of the 
slain. * 



A PASTORAL 
IN THE MANNER OF SPENSER. 

FBOM THEOCRITUS >. 
10V LL. XX. 

As iate I Strove Lncilla's lip to kiss, 

w vjtk di s c u itesee reproVd my will ; 

>>i tboQ, she said, atifect so pleasant bliss, 

i WB^ shepherd, aod a losell s vile ? 

Sr< Faacy's hand should join my courtly lip 

Titlme, as I myself were fast asleep. 

4tb)a die spake, liill proud and boasting lasse, 

tt as a peacocke, pearke, in dalliance 

V'T biafly tamed her ungentle face, 

*JA ail disdaining ey VI my sbaix! askaunce : 

Kcldid Uosb, with grief and shame yblcnt 3, 

oe namiDg-rose with hoary dewc besprent. 

*ol me, my fellows all, am I not fair ? 

Ihsfefl enchantress blasted all my charms ? 

'^'Jgn mine head was sleek with tressed hayre, 

Aj laogbinj; eyne did shoot out love's alarms : 

'^9 Ktte did deemeo me the fiiircst swain, 

*^M ent I won tbis.girdle on the plain. ^ 

^ b? with vermil was embellished, 

% Wfp^ notes lond and delicious were, 

IV milk-white lily, and the rose so red, 

^ a oiy fiKe dq;)einteD lively cbecre, 

' T^is it not a translation, but rather a p;ira- 
F^(»«e'aaitationofthe20tbldyllium of Theocritus. 

Tbe Mosa '» the same with that in Spcnser^s 
^?i«irs Calendar, Jmimary and December. 

' A fDoMur-mthmg follow. 

'ia»lcd,CQofouiide«l. 



My voice as soote as mounting larke did shrill, 
My look was blitlie as Marg'ret*s at the mill. 
But she forsooth, more iair than Madge or Kate, 
A dainty maid, did deign not shepherd's luve : 
Nor wist what Thenot ^ told us swains of late. 
That Venus sotigbt a shepherd in a gix)ve ; 
Nor that a heav'niy god, who Phoebus hight *, 
Tq tend his flock M-ith sheplieids did delight. 
Ah! 'tis that Venus, with accurst despight. 
That all my dolour and my shame has made ! 
N*»r docs remembrance of her own delight 
For me one dn)p of pity sweet persuade ! . 
Aye hence the glowing rapture may she miss, 
Like me be scornM, nor ever taste a kiss ! 



FROM HORACK, 



Book iii. Op. 1:L 
Vk waves, that gushing fall with purest stream, 
Blan<lusian fount 1 to whom the products sweet 
Of richest vines belong. 

And fairest flow'rs of Spring ; 
To thee a chosen victim will I kill, 
A goat, who, wanton in lascivious youth. 
Just blooms with building horn. 
And destines future war. 

Elate in vainest Ihought : but ah \ too soon 
His reeking blo«>d with crimsou shall pollute 
Thy icy-ttowi ng flood, 

And tinge thy chrystal clear. 
Thy sweet recess the Sun in mid-day hour 
Can ne'er invade : thy streams the iabour'd ox 
Refresh with cooling draught, 
And glad the wandVing herds. 
Thy name shall shine with endless honour grac'd. 
While on toy shell I sing the hapging oak, 
That o'er thy cavern deep 
Waves his' imbowering head. 



HORACE, 

Book iii* Od^ 18. 

AFTER THE MAKNBR OF MILTOH. 

Faun'us, who lov'st to chase the light-ibot nymphs. 
Propitious guard my fields and sunny farm. 
And nurse with kindly care 
The promise of my flock. 
So to thy po%'r a kid shall yearly bleed. 
And tbe full bowl to genial Venus flow ; 
Aud on thy rustic shrine 
Rich odours incense breathe : 
So thrt>' 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 tlie lamb bhnll fly th' insidious wolf. 
The woods shall shed their leaveti, and the glad hind 
The ground where once he dug. 
Shall beat .in spri^aliy dance. 

< The name of an old shepherd in Spenser*8 Shep. 



Cal. February. 
^ Who was called Phoebus. 



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vo» 



WARTON-S POEMS. 



ODES. 



Theocbit. Epigr. 



OBE 1. 
TO SLE^P. 

(PUSLISHBD IN n't?.) 

On this my pensiTe pillow, gentle Sleep \ 
Descend, in all thy downy plumage drest : 
Wipe with thy wing these eyes that wake to weep. 
And place thy crown*of poppies on my breast. 

steep my senses in oblivion's balm, 

And sooth my throbbing pulse with lenient band ; 
This tempest of my boiling bl<j«d becalm! — 
Despair grows mild at thy suprems command. 
Yet ah ! in vain, familiar with the gloom, 
And sadly toiling through the tedious night, 

1 seek sweet slumber, while that virgin bloom. 
For ever hovering, haunts my wretched sight. 
Nor would the dawning day my sorrows charm : 
Black midnight and the blaze of noon alike 

To me appear, while with uplifted arm 

Death stands prepared, but still delays, to strike. 



ODE IL 

THE HAMLET. 

waiTTIV IN WBICHWOOD rOBBST. 
(PUBUSHBD IN 1777.) 

Tbb hinds how blest, who ne'er beguild 
To quit their hamlet's hawthorn wiU ; 
Nor haunt the crowd, nor teanpt the mam, 
For splendid care, and guilty gain 1 

When morning's twilight-tinctnr'd beam 
Strikes their low thatch with slantiog gleam, 
They rove abroad in ether blue. 
To dip the scythe m fragrant dew ; 
The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell. 
That nodding shades a craggy dell. 

Midst gloomy glades, in waifoles clear, 
Wild nature's sweetest notes they hear : 
On green untrodden banks tliey view 
The hyacinth's nejrlected hue : 
fai their lone haunts, and woodland rooads. 
They spy the squirrel's airy bounds : 
And startle from her ashen spray, 
Across the glen, the screaming jay : 
liach native charm their steps explore 
Of Solitude's sequestered store. 

For them the Muon with cloudless ray 
Monnts, to illume their homeward way : 
Their weary spirits to relieve, 
The meadows iucense breathe at eve. 
No riot mars the simple fare, 
Tliat o'er a glimmering hearth they share : 
But when the curfcu's measur'd roar 
DuJ J, the darkening valleys o'cr^ 



Has echoed from the distant ttywnv 
They wish no beds of cygnet-down. 
No trophied canopies, to close 
Their drooping eyes in quick repose. 

Their little sons, who spread the bloom 
Of health around the clay-built rooa», 
Or through tlie primros'd coppice stny, 
Or gambol in the new-mown bay ; 
Or quaintly braid the cowslip>twine, 
Or drive afield the tardy kine ; 
Or hasten from the sultry hiil, 
To loiter at tt»c shady rill ; 
Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest. 
To rob the raven's ancient nesL 

Their humble porch with honied flow'r* 
The euMing woodbine's shade imbow'rt r 
From the small garden's thy my mound 
Their bees in busy swarms refund : 
Nor fell Disea.<«, before hie time, 
Hastes to consume life's golden prime: 
But when their temples long have wort 
The silver crow» of tresses hoar ; 
As studiow still calm peace to keep^ 
Beneath a flowery torf they sleep. 



ODE IlL 

WRriTEN AT VALE.ROYAL ABBEY > IN 

CHESHIRE. 

(puiLisBBD n« 1777.) 

As evening slowly spreads his mantle hear. 

No ruder sounds the bonnded valley fill, 

Than the feint din, from yonder sedgy shore. 

Of rushing waters, and the matmnring mill. 

How sunk the scene, where clotster'd leisure mns'df 

Where war-worn Edward paid his awftil vam ; 

And, lavish of magniffcenee, dlffoaHl 

His crowded sph«t o'er the broad mottntMo's braw I 

The golden fens, that o^er the turrets strown. 

Quick-glancing to the Sun, wild music made. 

Are reft,, and every battlement o'eigrown 

With knotted thorns, and the tall ■apUng'fe Bbadeb 

The prickly thistle sheds its plumy creit. 
And matted nettles sliade the crumbling man. 
Where »hone the pavement's surfeoe smooth, imprest 
With rich reflection of the storied glam. 

I A monastery for Gsterckn monks, feonded hf 
king Edward f. about the year 1300, in consfisqaence 
of H vow, which he made when in danger of being 
.shipwrecked, during his return fh>m a erusadsb 
It was first founded at Demhall in the same oonn- 
ty, in the year 1 270, 54th of the reign of Henry HI. 
But afterwards Edward I. in the 87th year of his 
own reign, translated it to a place on the river 
Wever, not fer distant, to whidi he on thit oocft- 
sion gave the name of The Vale-royal, and gi an te d 
to the abbot and convent several perisbea, lands, 
&c. adjoining. After the diswiution it came faitn 
the family of Holcrolt, flnom whom It was pvr- 
chased about the middle of the 17th centnrr bf 
the lady Mary Cholmley ; and in her fiuwly I 
bcKeve that it still < 



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lOi 



Eat hu6y clMftaaas depC m proud rapott, 
Soblimelf thria'd m soifeoiH imagery ; 
And through tbe leHening ilea, in radiant rows. 
Their comae lated hannen hang oo biglu 
There nen broirze, and there tbe sable yew 
Throogfa the don toid displays its baleful glooms ; 
And ibeds is lingBring drops ungenial dew 
CTtt the fiKgatteo grares and scattered tombs, 
fif tbe tlov clock, in stately-measarM chime, 
That from the massy tower tremendous toll'd, 
No more the plowman coimts the tedious time, 
Nor disfcanl shepAieTd pens his twilight ibid. 
High o*er tbe trackless hnUh at midnight seen, 
5o more the windows, rangM in long array, 
(Where the tall sbaft and fretted nook between 
Thick iTy tarines) the taper'd rites betray. 

£r'D now, amid the wavering ivy-wreaths, 
(While kindred tboughU the pensive sounds iiispiro) 
When the weak breeze in many a whisper broathes, 
I leem to listen to the chanting qniro. 

As o'er these ahatter*d towers intent we muse. 
Though reared by Charity's capricious zeal. 
Yet can our breasts soft Pity's sigh refuse. 
Or consdous Candour's modest plea conceal ? 

For though the sorceress. Superstition blind. 
Amid the pomp of dreadful sacrifice. 
O'er tbe dun rooft, to cheat the tranced rnind^ 
Oft bade her visioiiary gleams arise : 

Tbsagb the vaia hours aasacial Sloth bocoil'd* 
While tiM «U11 cloister's gate Oblivion lock'd ; 
And thro' the chambers pale, to slumbers mild 
Wan Indolence bar drowsy cradle rockM : 
Yet beaM, iolilpoa'd in veaerable staU» 
Proad Ho^pitsJity dtfpaas'd bar atoM: 
Ah, sea, baaaath fM t««nr's aavaultad 9il^ 
Foriom she sita apoo the brembled floor ! 

Her ponderous vMe* with Gothic pooitrakara 
Eaboai'd, no more with balosy moistare iosn ; 
Mid the mix'd shards o'arwhelmM in dast abaeve, 
Ko mora, as erst, 4ba foyaa goblet flaai. 
flbK beat by sterols ia Glory's ardaoas way, 
fleie migki ifabitiaa muse, a pilgivD m^e ; 
Here raptar'd ate laligto's ef eaieg lagr 
Oild toe calm walks «^ his npoaing age. 

Here anoeat Art her dmdal fcneies pla^d 
is the <)aaintmaaes of the crisped roof; 
h melow gtoQOBs the speaikiBg pane anray'd. 
And raiji^ the clmter'd cOlamn, saamy proof. 
Here Learning, guarded from a barbarous age, 
Hover'd awhile, nor darM attempt the day ; 
^t patient trac'd upon the pictured page 
1W hod|^ legend, or heroic lay. 
RiOier the solitary minstrel came 
Aq boBonr'd gnest, while the grim evening sky 
Hang lowering, and around the social flame 
Ton'd his bold harp to tales of chivalry. 

Thm siagi the Muse, all pensive and alone ; 
Hot seonis within the deep fane's inmost cell. 
To pluck the gray moss from tbe mantled stone, 
Sooie holy foandei^ mouldering name to spell. 
Thus sings tbe Muse :— yet partial as she smgs, 
Wkh fioad r^ret surveys these ruin'd piles : 
Aad ^th foir im^nges of ancient things 
The eagtiae hard's obae^aioDs Bund beguiles. 



But much we pardon to th' ingeanous Mnse ; 
Her fiiiry shapes are trick'd by Fancy's pen : 
Severer Reason forms far other views. 
And scans tbe scene with philosophic ken. 
Prom these deserted domes new glories rise^ 
More useful institutes, adomiug man. 
Manners enlaig'd, and new civilities. 
On fresh founcUtions build tbe social plan. 

Science, on ampler plume, a bolder flight 
Essays, escap'd from Superstition's shrine $ 
While freed Religioa, like primeval light 
Bursting from chaos, spreads her warmth divioe» 



ODE IV. 
SOLITUDB AT AV IVH. 

.(waiTTIH MAY 15, 1769- ) 

Oft upon the twilight plain, 
Oireled with thy shadowy train, 
While the dove at disUnce coo'd» 
Have I met thee, Solitude ! 
Then was loneliness to me 
Best and trae society. 
But ah ! how alter'd is thy i 
In this sad deserted scene ! 
Hero all thy classic pleasures < 
Musing aiild, and thoughtful i 
Nero thou com'st in sullen mood. 
Not with thy fsntastic brood 
Of magic shapes and risions aiiy 
Beckon'd from the land of Fairy « 
'Mid the melancholy void 
>lot a pensive charm enjoy'd ! 
No poetic being hero 
Strikes with airy sounds mine ear ; 
No converse hero to fancy cold 
With many a fleeting form I bold. 
Hero all inelegant and rude 
Thy presence is, sweet Solitude. 



ODE V. 

SENT TO MR. UPTON 

on BIS BDmoN or tub vaeub evtBUB >. 

(PUBLISHEP IN 1777.) 

As oft, reclin'd on Cherwell's shelving shore, 
I trac'd romantic Spenser's moral page 
And sooth'd my sorrows with the dulcet lose 
Which Fancy fabled in her elfla age ; 
Much would 1 grieve, that earioas Time ao sooa 
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 bung o'er fiury ground : 
His wisaid hand unbcks each guarded vsJe, 
And opes each flowery forest's magic bound. 

1 In tbe library of Trinity College, Oscford, there 
is a copy of Urry's Chaucer, on tbe first leaf of 
which is the following memorandum. Notnlas 
manuscriptas adjecit Joannes Upton, Prasbendarius 
Ecclesiao Boflfensis. Cujus a Musaeo redemptus est 
iste Uber. T. WviQu. 



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102 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



7 hps, never knight wUh mortal arms essay'd 
The castle of proud Busyrane to quell, 
Till Britomart her beamy shield display^. 
And broke trith golden spear the mighty spell : 
The dauntless maid with hardy step explor*d 
Each room, arrayM in g:listenn< imagery ; 
And thro* th' enchanted chamber, richly stor'd, 
8aw Cupid's stately maske com^ sweeping by.-» 
At this, where'er in distant regk>n sheen, 
She roves, embowered with many a spangled bongb, 
Mild Tna, lifting her majestic mien, 
Braids with a brighter wreath her radiant brow. 
At this, in hopeless sorrow drooping long, 
Ifer painted wings Imagination plumes ; 
PleaK^d that her laureate TOtary*s rescued song 
Its native charm and genuine grace resumes. 



ODE VI. 



THE SUICIDE K 

Beneath the beech, whose branches bare, 

Smit with the lightning's livid glare, 
O'erhang the craggy road. 

And w histic hollow as they wave ; 

"Within a solitary grave, 
A slayer of himself holds his accurs*d abode. 

Ijower'd the grim mom, in murky dits, 

Damp mists inrolv'd the scowling skies. 
And dimm'd the struggling day ; 

As by the brook, that ling*rittg la%'es 

Yon rush -grown moor with sable wave9, 
Full of the dark resolve he took his sullen way. 

I mark'd his desultory pace, 

His gestures stVange, and varying face. 

With many a mutterM sound ; 
And ah I too late aghast I view'd 
The reeking blade, the hand embruVl ; 

He fell, and groaning grasp'd in agony the ground. 
Full many a melancholy night 
He watcliM 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 burning eyes to steep. 

Full oft, unknowing and unknown, 
He wore his endless noons alone. 

Amid th' autumnal wood : 
Oft was he wont, in hasty fit, 
Abrupt the social board to quit, 
Aid gaze with eager glance npon the tumbling flood. 
Beckoning the wretch to torments new, * 

Despair, for ever in his view, 

A spectre pale, appcar'd : 
TVliile^ as the shades of eve arose. 
And brought the day's unwelcome close, 
More horrible and huge her giant-shape she rear'd. 

I I am well informed that an opinion, which has 
prevailed, of this ode having been occasioned by, the 
death of Chatterton, is not founded <»n feet 
Cbatterton destroyc*d himself by s\\ allow ng aisenic 
in water. Not indeed that this circumstance would 
be decisive against his being the subject of it : but 
I know from indisputable anthority that he was not. 
Mast. 



•* Is this," mistaken Scorn will cry, 

** Is this the 3'onth whose gemus high 
Could build the genuine rhyme? 

Whose boffom mild the favoaring Mu<ke 

Had »tor'd with ail her ample views, 
Parent of fairest deeds, and purposes Kubiime.** 

Ah ! from the Muse that bosom mild 

By treacherous magic was beguii'd, 
To strike the deathful blow : 

She fill'd bis sod ingenuous mind 

With many a feeling too refln'd. 
And rous'd to livelier pangs his wakeful sense of woew 

lliough doom'd hard penury to prove, 

And the shaqi stings of bo}MiIess love ; 
To griefs congenial prone, 

More wounds than nature gave be knew, 

While miscry^s foi-m his fancy drew 
In dark ideal hues, and horrours not its own. 

Then wish not o'er bis earthy tomb 

The baleful nightsliade's luiid bkxmi 
To drop its deadly dew : 

Nor oh ! forbid the twisted thorn. 

That nidely binds his turf forlorn, 
With spring'sgrcen-swelling buds to vegetate anew. 

W^hat though no marble-piled bust 

Adorn his desolated dust. 

With speaking sculpture wrought ? 

Pity shall woo the weeping Nine, 

To build a visionary shrine, [brought. 

Hung wi'h unfading flowers, from fairy regioru 

W^hat though refused each chanted rite ? 

Here viewless mourners shall delight 
To t6uch the shadowy shell : 

And Petrarch's harp, that wept th« doom 

Of Laura, lost in early bloom. 
In many a pensive pause shall seam to ring Hit knell« 

To sooth a lone, unhallowed shade. 

This votive dirge sad duty paid, 
' Within an ivied nook ; 

Sodden the half-foiiik orb of day 

More radiant shot its partnig ray. 
And thus a cherub- voioe my charm'd attention took* 

*' Forbear, fond bard, thy partial praise j 

Nor thus for gnilt in spacious la3rs 
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 larga 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 foo. 

Her aid divme bad luU'd to rest 

You foul self-murtberer's throbbing breast. 
And stay'd the ri^iing storm : 

Had bade the sun of hope appear 

To gild his darkened hemisphere. 
And give the wonted bloom to nature*s blasted form. 

" Vain man! 'Us Heaven's prerogative 

To take, what first it deign'd to give. 
Thy tributary breath : 

In awful expectation plao'd, 

Await thy doom, nor impious haste [death.*' 
To pluck f^m God's right hand his instnftaents of 



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ODES. 



ros 



ODE riL 

SBNT TO A FRIEND «, 
ev mn lbatims a patoumitb ▼ileagb in bampsbiri. 

(wtlTTKK IN 1750. PUBLISHED IN 1777.) 

Ab moom, thoa lofv'd retreat ! No more 
^all duMC fltBp6 thy scenes explore ! 
Wtea nBm'i pale rays but iaintly peep 
O^ar yonler aak-croarnM airy steep, 
Wbo now shall climb its brows to yiew 
The ko^ of landscape, ever new, 
Where Sammer flings, in carclem pride, 
Ber varied iresture &r and wide ! 
Who naarky beneath, each villago-cbarm, 
Or grange, or eloi-encircled farm : 
The flinty dove-cote's crowded roof, 
WatchM by the kite that sails aloof: 
the tttited pines, whose umbrage tall 
Darfcens the ioog-deserted hall : 
The petena beech, that on the plain 
CciAects at eve the playful train : 
Tbe cot that smokes with early fire, 
The lov-nMif *d fane's embosomed spire ! 

Wbo now shall indolently stray 
Thoqgh the deep forest's tangled way ^ 
neasM at his custom'd task to find 
The wdl known hoary-tressed hind. 
That toils with feeble hands to glean 
Of wither'd boughs his pittance mean ! 
Who nid thy nooks of hazle sit. 
Lost in some melancholy fit ; 
Aai Mstcning to tbe Taven's croak. 
The distant flail, the fiUIing oak ! 
Who^ thraogh the sunshine and the shower, 
Ifeacry the rainbow-painted tower ? 
^lio, wandering at return of May, 
Cmdkk the first cuckow's pcmal lay ? 
Who mnsing waste tbe summer hour. 
Where high o'er-arching trees embower 
The gEaasj lane, so rarely pac'd^ 
With aamre flow'rets idly grac'd ! 
Cvotic'd now, at twilight's dawn 
l etmn i ag reapers cross the lawn ; 
Nor Ibnd a tteation loves to notfe 
The wether's bdl from folds remote : 
While, own'd by no poetic eye. 
Thy pensive evenings shade the sky ! 

Fbr h> ! the Bard who rapture found 
h evay rural sight or sound ; 
Whose geniis warm, and judgment chaste^ 
Ns cfaaim of genuine nature pass'd ; 
Who Celt the Muse's purest fires, 
hrfran thy Cavonr'd baunt retires : 
Who peopled all thy vocal bowers 
Wah shadowy shapes, and airy powers. 

Behold, m dread repose resumes, 
is ost, thy tad seqnester'd gloomsl 
FfOB the deep dall, whtire shaggy roots 
ftisfji tin rough brink with wreathed shoots, 

> To his brother. Dr. Joseph Warton, who at the 
tiae cT ths ode being written, 1750, was just 
''sniV hii leadeno^ at Wynslade, near Basing- 
*oka, aid going abroad with Charles duke of 
^"^^ The flnt fwinct oooftatiis an allusion to 



Th' unwilling genius fKes forlorn, 

His primrose chaplet rudely torn. 

With hollow shriek the nymphs forsake 

Tbe pathless copse and hedge-row brake: 

Where the deiv'd moimtain's headlong side 

Its chalky entrails opens wide. 

On the green summit, amUish'd high, 

No Ioniser Fcho loves to lie. 

No pearl -crownM maids with wily look, 

Rise beckonini? from tbe reedy brook. 

Aronnd the glow -worm's glimmering bank. 

No Fairies run in (iery rank ^ 

Nor brush, half-seen, in airy ti^ead 

The violet's unprinted head. 

But Fancy, from the thickets brown, 

The i^adcs that wear a consrious frown. 

The forest-oaks, that, pale and lone. 

Nod to ^e blast with hoarser tone. 

Rough glens, and sullen waterfalls. 

Her bright ideal oflbpring calls. 

So by some sage enchanter's spell, 
(As old Arabian fablers tell) 
Amid the solitary wild, 
Luxuriant gardens gaily smil'd: 
From sapphire rocks the fountains streamed. 
With golden fruit the branches beamed ; 
Fair forms, in every wondrous wood. 
Or lightly tripp'd, or solemn stbod ; 
And oft, retreating from the view, 
Betray'd. at distance, beauties new : 
While gleaming o'er the crisped bowers 
Rich spires a«ose, and sparkling towers. 
If bound ou service new to go. 
The master of tbe magic show. 
His ti'ansitory charm withdrew. 
Away th' illusive landscape flew : 
Dun clouds obscur'd tbe groves of gold. 
Blue lightning smote the blooming mould : 
In visionary glory rear'd. 
The gorgeous castle disappeared ; 
And a bare heath's unfruitful plaiu 
Usurp'd the wisard's proud domain. 



VDE rilL 

MORNINGL 



^HB AUTHOR COMVXNBD TO COL-LEGB. 



Scr'ib'mus inclusi.- 



Pers. Sat. 1. ver. 13. 



(written in 1745, bis 17th year, published in 
1750, in tub student.) 

Oncb more the vernal Sun's ambrosial beams 

The fields as with a purple robe adorn : 
Cher well, thy sedgy banks and glistVing streams 

All laugh and sing at mild approach of morp ; 
Thro' the deep groves I hear the chanting birds. 
And thro' the clover'd vale the various-lowing 

herds. 
Up moimts 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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104 

More genuine pleasure soothes his tranquil bnast, 
Than high-thronM kings can boai^ in eastern glory 

drest. 

The pensive poet thro» the green-wood steals. 

Or treads the willowM marge of onurmuring 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 bis musing mind with fancies high to glow. 
But I nor with the day awake to bliss, 

( Inelegant to me fair Nature's face, 
A blank the beauty of the mornin}? is. 

And grief an«l darkness all for light and grace;) 
Nor bright the sun, nor green the meads appear. 
Nor colour charuts mine eye, nor melody mine car. 
Me, void of elegance and manners mild, 

With leaden rod, stern Discipline restrains ; 
Stiff Pedantry, of learned Pride the child, 

My rovinu genius binds in Gothic chaiu; 
Nor can the cloister'd Muse expand her wing. 
Nor bid these twilight roo& with her gay caiolt rmg. 



ODE IX K 



COMPLAINT OF CHERWELL «. 

(WMTTKN IN 1761. PtTBLISHED, AS IT NOW STANDS, 

IN 1777.) 

All pensive from her osier-woven bow'r 
Cherwell arose. Around her darkening edge 
Pale eve began the steaming mist to pour, 
And breezes fann'd by fits the rustlmg scJdgc : 
She rose, and thus she cried in deep despair. 

And tore the rushy wreath that bound her stream- 
ing hair. 
"Ah ! why,»' she criecl, " 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 ? 
While I, alike to those proud domes allied. 

Nor hear the Muse's call, nor boast a classic tide. 
«* No chosen son of all yon febling band 
Bids my loose locks their glossy lengtli diffuse j 
Nor sees my coral -cincturM stole expand 
Its folds, besprent with Spring's unnumber'd hues : 
No poet builds my protto's dripping cell, [shell. 

Nor studs my crystal throne with many a speckled 
" In Isis' vase if Fancy's eye disrem 
Majestic towers emboss'd 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 ttic gentle grace, the meek retiring mien. 

» This ode ftrst appeared in the Oxfbnl ootlection 
of verses on the death of George II. in the name of 
John Chichester, brother to the eari of DonegalL 
Gent. Com. of Trin. Coll. It was afterwards pub- 
hshed in the first edition of Wartoo's Poems, with 
variations in general not important 

* One of the rivers at OxfonL 



WARTON'8 TOEMS. 



** Proud nymph, since late the Muse thy tri- 
umphs sung. 
No more with mine thy acoraftil oaiads play, 
(While Cynthia's lampo'er the broad vale is hong,) 
Where meet o«r streams, indulging short delay ; 
No more, thy crown to braid, thou deign'st to take 

My cress-bom flowers, that float in many a shady 
lake. 
'* Vain bards ! can Isis win the raptnr'd sml. 
Where Aft each wilder watery charm invades t 
Whose waves, in measur'd voluDMBtangbtto soli, 
Or stagnant sleep, or rush in whke cai^ades : 
Who<ie banks with echoing industry resound, 

Fenc'd by the foam-beat pier, and tonrant-braviDg 
mound. 

" Lo ! here no commerce spreads thaferrent toil. 

To pour pollutiim o*er my virgna tide ; 

The fi-eshness of my pa-^tures to defile. 

Or bruise the matt(*d groves that ftnnge my side : 

But Solitude, on this sequester'd hank, 

Mid the moist lilies sits, attir'd in mantle dank. 
" No ruder sounds my grazing herds affright. 
Nor mar the milk- maid's solitary sung : 
The jeabus halcyon wheels her bumbie flight. 
And hides her emerald wing my reeds among; 
All unalarm'd, save when the genial May [hay. 

Bids wake my jieopled shores, and rears the ripen'd 
" Then scorn no more this «nfr«queBted scene '; 
So to new notes shall my cr.y Echo string 
Her lonely harp. Hither the brow aerene. 
And the slow paoe of ContemplatiDn bring : 
Nor call in vain inspiring Ecstasy 

To bid her visions meet the frenzy-rolliQg eyt. 
" Whate'er the theme ; if unrequited love 
Seek, all unseen, his bashful griefs to breathe; 
Or Fame to bolder flights the bosom move, 
Waving aloft the glorious epic wreath ; 
Here hail the Muses : from the busy throng 

Bemote, where Fancy dwells, and Nature prompts 
the song.^ 



ODE X 
THE FIRST OF APRIL. 

(PUBLISBBD IM 1777.) 

With dalliance rude young Zephyr woes 
Coy May. Full oft with kind excuse 
The boisterous boy the flur denies, ' 
Or with a soomlul smite complies. 

' Instead of the two staosM which now oDOoiude 
this ode, there were originally the foUosring , which 
allude to the particular occasion of it : 
Then hither haste, ye youths, whose duty brings 
To George's memory the votive dii^ ; 
Lo ! pensive Peace shall tune your aolemn strings* 
To saddest airs along my lonely verge ( 
Here Grief with holy musiasi may oonvene 
In sounds, that best shall greet the glorious hero's 
herse. 

Or if auspicious themes your haips wouM own. 
In airy visions here shall meet your eye 
Fair scenes of bliss : a blooming monarch's throne 
Hung with the wreaths of righteous vietory. 
The decent trophies of domestic ease, 
A people's filial love, and all the palms of peace. 



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ODES. 



10& 



BUndfiilcr disaster p«t. 
And sbrinkhig at the northern blast. 
The tlcetv storm returaing still. 
The morning boar, and evening chill ; 
Rduccant coaMs the timid Spring. 
Scarce a bee, with airy riqg, 
Marmurs the blossofm'd boughs annmd. 
That clothe the garden's sonthem bound : 
Scarce a ^iicldy straggting flower 
Deeitt tlie rough caatie^s rifted tower: 
Scarce the hardy primrose peeps 
From the dark delPs entangled steeps ; 
O'er the fields of waving broom 
Sluvly shoots the golden bloom : 
And, but by fits, the furze-clad dale 
Tinctures the transitory gale. 
While from tlie sbrabiwry's naked maze. 
Where the vegetable blaze 
Of Flora's brightest 'broidery shone, 
Etery ckeqner'd charm is flown ; 
Save that the lilac hangs to view 
hs bofstittg gems m clusters blue. 

Scant along the ridgy land 
The beans their new-bom ranks expand : 
The fresh-tum'd soil with tender blades 
Thinly the sprouting barley shades : 
Fringing 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 haste 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 fendly trusts its tender dies 
To fickle suns, and flattering skies. 

Fraught with a transient, frozen shower. 
If a cloud should haply lower. 
Sailing o'er the landscape dark, 
Mate on a sudden is the lark ; 
Bat when gleams the Sun again 
O'er the pesrl-besprinkled plain. 
And from behind bis-watery vail 
Looks through the thin descending hail ; 
SKe mounts, and, lessening to the sight. 
Salutes the blithe return of light, 
And high her tuneful track pursues 
Mid the dim rainbow's scattered hues. 

Where in venerable rows 
Widely waving oaks enclose 
The moat of yonder antique hall, 
Svarm the rooks with clamorous eall ; 
And to the toils of nature true. 
Wreath their capacious nests anew. 

Mosing through the lawny park. 
The kmely poet loves to mark 
How various greens in fiiint degrees 
Tuigethe tall gioupes of various trees; 
While, careless of the changing year. 
The phae cerulean, never sere, 
Toweis distinguish'd from the rest. 
And proudly vaunts her winter vest 

Within some whispering osier isle, 
Where Glym's low banks neglected smile « ^ 

*The Glym is a small river in Oxfordshnv, 
wwing through Warton's parish of Kiddington, or 



And each trim meadosr slill retama 
The wintry torrsnfs oocy ataios : 
Beneath a willow, long ibrsook. 
The fisber seeks his ouetom'd nook ; 
And bursting through the cmckliag sedge» 
That crowns the current's caver»*d edge. 
He startles from the bordering wood 
The bashful wild duck's eariy brood. 

O'er the broad downs, a novel noa^ 
Frisk the lambs with fiuikariag pane. 
And with eager bleatiags IH 
The foss that skirU the beaoon'd hHt. 

His free-bom vigour yet unbioka 
To lordly man's usurping yoke, 
The bounding colt forgets to play. 
Basking beneath the noo»>tide ray. 
And streteh'd among the daisies pied 
Of a green dingle's sloping aide : 
While far beneath, where Nature i_ 
Her boundless length of level meads. 
In loose luxuriance taught to stny 
A thousand tumbling riHs inlay 
With silver .reins the vale, or pass 
Redundant through the sparkling ( 

Yet, in these presages rude, 
Midst her pensive solitude. 
Fancy, with prophetic glance. 
Sees the teeming months advance ; 
The field; the ^bsest, green and gay. 
The dappled slope, the tedded hay ; 
Sees the reddening orchard blow, 
The harvest wave, the vintage ftow; 
Sees June unsold his glossy robe 
Of thousand hues o'er all the globe; 
Sees Ceres grasp -her crown of cof«. 
And Plenty load her ample horn. 



ODE XT. 

OM TBB 

APPBOACH OF SUMMEIL 



Te, dea, te fugiuat veoti, te nubiia cmli, 
Adventurnque tuum ; tibi suaveis dedala tellus 
Summittit flores ; tibi rideot SM)uora ponti ; 
Placatunique nitct difi'uso lumioe coshuiL 

hvcKvr. 



(poaaisaso m ^49.) 

Hekcb, iroa-scepter'd Winter, haste 

To bleak Siberian waste ! 
Haste to thy polar solitude ; 

Mid cataracts of ice, [^rude. 

Whose torraats dumb mee fitnetch'd in fragmeoto 

Cuddmgton, and dividhig it into upper and lower 
town. It is described by himself in his account of 
Cuddington, as a deep but narrow stream, windmg 
through willowed meadows, and abounding in trouta, 
pikes, and wild-fowl. It gives name to the village 
of Olymton, with adjoins to Kiddington. 



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106 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



From many aa aiiy pteeipioe. 
Where, ever beat by deeiy show'n. 
Thy gloomy Gothic castle tow'ra. 
Amid whose howling iles and balls. 
Where no gay sun-beam paints the walls* 
On ebon throne thou tov'st to sbrond 
Thy brows in many a murky cloud. 

E'en now, before the vernal heat. 
Sullen I see thy train retreat : 
Thy ruthless host stem Earns guides. 
That on a ravenous tiger rides, 
Dtm-6gur'd on whose robe are shoiwn 
Shipwrecks, and villages overthrown : 
Grim Auster, dropping all with dew. 
In mantle clad of watchet hue : 
And Cold, like Zemblan savage seen. 
Still threatening with his arrows keen : 
And next, in furry coat embost 
With iciclei, his brother Frost 

Winter forewetl I thy forests hoar, 
Tby frozen floods delight no more ; 
Farewell the fields, so bare and wild ! 
But come thon rose-cheekM chenib mild, 
Sweetest Summer ! haste thee here, 
Once more to crown the gladdened year. 
Thee April blithe, as long of yore, 
Bermudas* lawns he frolick'd o*er. 
With musky nectar-trickling wing, 
(In the new world's first dawning spring. )/ 
To gather balm of choicest dews. 
And patterns fair 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-born bells; 
Tliee, as he skim'd with pinions fleet. 
He found an infant, smiling sweet; 
Where a tall citron's ^bade imbrown'd 
The soft lap of the fragrant gronnd. 
There on an amaranthine bed, 
Thee with jiire nectarine fruits he fed ; 
Till soon beneath his forming care. 
You hloomM a goddess debonair 
And then he gave the blessed isle 
Aye to be sway'd beneath thy smile : 
There plac'd thy green and grassy shrine. 
With myrtle bower'd and jessamine : 
And to thy care the task assign'd 
With quickening hand, and nurture kind, 
Ilis roseate infbnt-births to rear. 
Till Autumu's mellowing reign appear. 

Haste thee, nymph ! and hand in hand. 
With thee lead a buxom band ; 
BriuR fantastic-fb ited Joy, 
With Sport, that yellow- tressed boy : 
Leisure, that through the balmy sky 
Cbases a crimson butterfly. 
Bring Health, that loves in early dawn 
To meet the milk-maid on the lawn ; 
Bring Pleasure, rural nymph* and Peace, 
Meek, cottage-loving shepheidess ! 
And that sweet stripling. Zephyr^ bring, 
Light, and for ever on the wing. 
Bring the dear Muse, that loi-es to lean 
On river-fnargins, mossy green. 
But who is she, that bears thy train. 
Facing light the velvet plain ? 



The pale pink binds her auburn hair. 
Her tresses flow with pastoral air ; 
Tis May, the Grace— <»ofest she stands 
By branch of hawthorn in her hands : 
Lo ! near her trip the lightsome Dews, 
Their wings all ting'd in iris-hues ; 
With whom the pow'rs of Flora pUy, 
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 fair and fertile field 
Beauty begins her bow'r to build ! 
While Evening, veil'd in shadows brown, 
Puts her matron-mantle on. 
And mists in spreading streams convey 
More fresh the fumes of new-shom hay : 
Then, goddess, guide my pilgrim feet 
Contemplation hoar to meet. 
As slow he winds In museful mood. 
Near the rush*d marge of Cherwell's flood ; 
Or o'er old Avon's magic edge. 
Whence Shakespeare cuU'd the spiky sedge. 
All plajrful yet, in years unripe. 
To frame a shrill and simple pipe. 
There thro' the dusk but dimly seen. 
Sweet ev'ning-objects intervene : 
His wattled cotes the shepherd plants, 
Beneath her elm the milk-maid chants. 
The woodman, speeding home, awhile 
Rests him at a shady 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 spicy sweet 
To bathe in dew my roving feet : 
Nor wants there note of Philomel, 
Nor sound of distant-tinkling bell : 
Nor lowings fiiint of herds remote. 
Nor mastifTs bark from bosom'd cot : 
Rustle the breezes lightly borne 
O'er deep embattled ears of com : 
Round ancient elm, with humming noise. 
Full loud the chaffer-swarms rejoice. 
Meantime, a thousand dies invest 
The ruby chambers of the West ! 
That all aslant the village tow'r 
A mild reflected riEuiiance pour. 
While, with the level -streaming ra>8 
Far seen its arched windows blaze : 
And the tall grove's green top is dight 
In russet tints, and gleams of light : 
So that the gay scene by degrees 
Bathes my blithe heart in ecstasies; 
And Fancy to'my ravish'd sight 
Pourtrays her kindred visions bright. 
At length the parting light subdues 
My softcn'd soul to calmer views, 
And fainter shapes of pensive joy. 
As twilight dawns, my mind employ. 
Till from the path I fondly stray 
In musmgs 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 fairy lamp. 

But when the Sun, at noon-tide hour, 
Sits throned in his highest tow'r ; 



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ODES. 



!07 



Mr, hetft-rcjoictn^ goddess, lend 
To the tann*d haycock in the mead : 
To mix ID niral mood among 
The iMmiphs and twains, a busy thraog; 
Or, as the tepid odours breathe. 
The rfisset piles to lean beneath : 
There as my listless limbs are thrown 
On cottch more soft than palace down } 
I ti^cD to the busy sound 
Of mirth and toil that bums around ; 
And fee the team shrill-tinkling pass. 
Alternate o^er the furrow'd grass. 

But exer, after summer-show'r. 
When the bright Sim's returnui)? pow'r, 
With laughing beam h&i chas'd the storm. 
Anil ehcer'd reviving Nature's form ; 
By sweet-brier he<Iees, bath'd in dew, 
I /I me my wholesome path pursue ; 
'J'here issuing forth the frequent snail 
Wears the dank way with slimy trail, 
While, as 1 walk, from pearled bush 
The siuinj-sparkling drop I brush ^ 
And all the landscape &ir I view 
Clad in robe of fresher hue : 
And so load the black-bird sing«, 
That fitf and near the valley rings. 
From shelter deep of shaggy rock 
The shepherd drives his joyfiil flock ; 
Fhm boweriog beach the mower blithe 
With new-born vigour grasps the scythe; 
While o*er the snooth nnbotmdeil meads 
His lastfiunt gleam the rainbow spreads. 
But ever against restless heat, 
Bear me to the rock-arch'd seat, 
O'er whose dim mouth an ivy'd oak 
Hangs nodding from the low»brow*d rock ; 
Haunted by that chaste nymph alone, 
Wlrase wateis cleave the smootlicd stone ; 
Which, as they gush upon the ground, 
Stdl scatter misty dews around ; 
A mstie, wild, grotesque alcove. 
Its side with mantling woodbhies wove ; 
Cool as the cave where Clio dwells 
Wbeaee HeCcon's fresh fountain wells ; 
Or Qooo-tide grot where Sylvan sleeps 
In hoar Lycaeum's.piny steeps. 

Me, irodde«s, in sucb cuTcrn lay, 
While all without is scSoreh^d'in day ; 
Sore sighs the weary swain, beneath 
His withering bawtlu>m on the heath ; 
The drooping hedger wbhes eve, 
In rain, of labour short reprieve ! 
Meantinie, on Afric's glowing sands, 
Smote with keen heat, the traveler stands : 
Low sinks his heart, while round bis eye 
Measures the scenes that boundless lie, 
NVer yefby foot of mortal worn. 
Where Thirat, wan pilgrim, walks forlorn. 
How does he wish some cooling wave 
To slake his lips, or limbs to lave ! 
And thinks, in every whisper low. 
He hear* a bursting fountain flow. 

Or bear me to yon antique wood. 
Dim temple of sage Solitude ! 
There witbin a nook most dark, 
Where none toy musiiig mood giay mark, 
JiCt me in many a whisper'd rite 
The gemos old of Greece invite. 



With that fair wreath my brows to hind. 
Which for his ehosen imps he twin'd, 
Well nuitur'd in Pierian lore. 
On clear Ili^sus' laureate shore. 
Till high on waving nest reeling. 
The raven wakes my tranced mind f 

Or to the foreat-fringed vale. 
Where widow'd tuKies love to wail, 
Where cowslips, dad in mantle meek. 
Nod their tall heads to breezes weak : 
In the midst, witli sedges gray 
Crown*d, a scant riv'let winds its way. 
And trembling thro' the weedy wreaths. 
Around an oozy freshness breathes. 
O'er the solitary green, 
Nor cot, nor loitering hind is seen : 
Nor aught alarms the mote repose. 
Save that byHts an heifer lows : 
A scene might tempt some peaceful sage 
To rear hhn a lone hermitage ; 
Fit place.his pensive eld might chose ' 
On virtue's holy lore to mose. 

Yet still the sultry noon t' appease 
Some more romantic scene might please ; 
Or fairy bank, or magic lawn. 
By Spenser's lavish pencil drawn : 
Or bow'r in Vallombrosa's shade. 
By legendary pens pourtmy'd. 
Haste, let me shroud from pamful light. 
On that hoar hill's aerial height. 
In solemn state, where waving wide. 
Thick pines with darkening umbrage hide 
The rugged raults, 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, 
Misrht I that holy legend find. 
By Fairies spelt in mystic rhymes. 
To teach inquiring later times. 
What open force, or secret guile, 
Dash'd into dust the solemn pile. 

But when mild Mom ra saffron stole 
First issues firom her eastern goal. 
Let not my doe feet fail to climb 
Some breezy summit's brow sublime. 
Whence Natnre's universal face 
lllumin'd smiles with new born ij^race $ 
The misty streams that wind* below 
With silver-sparkling lustre glow ; 
The groves and castled diffii appear 
Invested ail in radiance clear ^ 
O ! every village charm beneath ! 
The smoke that mounts in azure wreath ! 
O beauteous, rural interchange ! 
The simple spire, and elmy grange ! 
Content, indulging blissful hours. 
Whistles o'er the fragrant floiv'rs. 
And cattle, rous'd to pasture new, 
Shake jooood from their sides the diw* 

Tis thou, alone, O Summer mild, 
Caast bid roe carol wood-notes wild : 
Whene'er I view thy genial scenes ; 
Thy.wayiqg wgods, embroider'd greeni; 



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108 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



What fires within my boMol wake. 

How glowi my miad the reed to take ! 

What charms like thioe the Muse can call. 

With whom 'tis youth and laughter all ; 

With whom each field 's a paradise. 

And all the globe a bow'r of Uiss ! 

With thee conTcrsing, all the day, 

I meditate my lightsome lay. 

These pedant cloisters let am leave. 

To breathe my focive song at em^ 

In valleys, where mild whispers use 

Of shade and stream, to court the Muse ; 

While wand'rtng o'er the brook's dim veigs, 

1 hear the stock dove's dying diiga. 

But when life's busier scene is o'er^ 
And age vhall give the tresses hoar, 
I'd fly soft Luxury's marble dome. 
And make an.humble thatch my home, 
Which sloping hills around enclose. 
Where many a beech and brown oak grows ; 
Beneath whose dark and braiK^hing bow'cs. 
Its tides a far-fam'd river pours : 
By Nature's beauties taught u> pleaae» 
Sweet Tusculaae * of nsral ease ! 
Still grot of peace ! in lowly shed 
Who loves to rest her gentle head. 
For not the scenes of Attic art 
Can comfort care, or sooth the heart t 
Nor burning cheek, nor wakeAd eye. 
For gold and Tynan purple fly. 

Thither, kmd Heav'n, in pity lent, 
Send me a. little, and content ; 
The fisithful friciid, and cheerful night. 
The social sceve ot' dear delight : 
The conscience pune, the temper gay. 
The musing eve, and idle day. 
Give me beneath cool shades to sit. 
Rapt with the charms of classic wit : 
To catch the bold heroic flame. 
That built jmniDrtal QvsBcia's fame. 
Nor let me fail, meantime, to raaas 
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 tale, 
And Edward, stem in sable mail ; 
Or wand'ring BrtitM* laiwless doom >, 
Or brave JBouduca, toomcge of Rome. 

1 Tuscuianupi, or Ager TvteuUmum, the country 
about Tusculum, where Cicero had a villa, to which 
be used to retire from the lahours #f the bar, to 
relajt his mind in the oompaoy of a few selaot 
friends, and to pursue his philosophical researches. 

s Brutus, accorduig to Geoffrey of MoBrooath, 
was son of Sylvius, grandson of Aseankis, and great 
grandson of /Eneas. Having accidentally kHled his 
lather in the chase, he was banished by his kindred 
trom Italy into Greece; where he delivered his 
countrymen the Trqjans from the bondage of Pan- 
drasus ; and having made a treaty with him, and 
married his daughter tnnogen, left Greece with the 
Trojans m a fleet of 394 sail, in search of a new 
country ; and after wandering about some time, m 
the course of winch he met with Corinens inlViscany, 
with whom he joined forces, at length arrived at 
Totness in Dewmshire. Cornwall by tot fell to 
Corineosi md Brutus himself reigMd over Ifac 



O ever to sweet Poesy 
Let me live true votary ! 
She shall lead me by the hand, 
Queen of sweet smiles, and solace hUsid ! 
She fipom her precious stoves shall shed 
Ambrosial flow'rets o'er my head : 
She, from my tender yoathfol cheek. 
Can wipe, with kBient finger meek. 
The secret and onpitied tear. 
Which still I drop in darkness drear« 
She shall be my blooming bride ; 
With her, as years suooessiTO glide^ 
ril hold divinest dallianoe. 
For ever held in holy 1 



ODE XIL 

THE CRUSADE. 
(pUBLisasD IN 1777.) 

ADvaarxseiiBNT. - 
King Richard the ikst, oeiebratBd Ibr his atfHeve- 
moots in the Crusades, was no less distingi^hed 
for his patropage of Che Proveneial minstrels, and 
his own compositions in their species of poetiy. 
Returning from one of his expeditions in the hdy 
land, in disguise, he was hnpirisaMd in a castle of 
Leopold duke of Austria. Rlsfavonrile 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 ana prisoMer, and 
whose naooe was nnlcoown. Sospeothsg that he 
had made the desired discovery, he seated himielf 
under a window of the prisoner's apartanent ; and 
began a song, or ode, which Cha kipg and him»elf 
had fbrmeriy composed togethen. When the 
prisoner, who was king Ricfaasd, heard the song, bs 
knew that BInodel most be the singer : and when 
Blondel paused about the middle, die king hegaa 
the remainder, aad completed it The f^Howiag 
ode is supposed to be this joint cmnpositiett of the 
minstrel and king Richard. W, 



BouNO for holy 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 sung : 

*' Syrian virgins, wail and weep> 
English Richard ploughs the deep ! 
Tremble, watchmen, as ye ^py 
From distant towers, with anxious eye. 
The radiant range of shield and lance 
Down Damascus' bills advance : 

island, the name of which he changed from Albkm 
to Britain, 24 years, when he died and was baried 
in a city hnilt by Mraself, eaHed Tnja nova, after- 
wards Trinovantum, on that which is now the site 
of LondoD. 



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109 



Fran Sioii'f tarrete as afo 

Ye kco the march of Etirope's war ! 

Saladia, thou paynim kinf^, 

From Albkm^ isle revenge we bring ! 

Od Acoq*s spiry dtadel. 

Though to the gale thy bannefs swell, 

Pictur'd with the silver Moon ; 

England shall end thy glory soon ! 

la vain, to break our firm array, 

Thy brazen drums hoarse discord bmy : 

Those fiOUDds our rising fury &n : 

English Richard in the van. 

On t-j Tictory we go, 

A vaunting rafidal the foe." 

Bloodel led the tuneful band. 
And swept tde wire with glowins^ hand. 
Cyprus, from her roeky mound. 
And Crete, with piny verdure crown'd. 
Far along the smiling main 
Echoed the prophetic strain. 

Soon we kiss'd the sacred earth 
Thit gave a mtlrdev'd Saviour birth ; 
Then with aid<mr firesh endu'd. 
Thus the solemn song renew'd. 

" Lo, the toilsome voyage past. 
Heaven's favour'd hills appear at last ! 
Ot»ject of our holy vow. 
We tread the Tyrian valteys now. 
From Carmel*s almond shaded steep 
We feel the cheering frai^ranoe creep : 
0*cr Eogaddi's shrubs of balm 
Waves the date-empurpl'd palm : 
See Lebanon^s aspiring head 
Wide his immortal umbmge spread I 
Hail Calvary, thou mountain hoar. 
Wet with our Redeemer's gore ! 
Ye trampled tombs, ye fsnes fbrlom, 
Y(t stones, by tean of pilgrims worn) 
Your ravisb'd honours to restore, 
Fearl«ss we climb this hostile shore f 
And thou, the sepulchre of Ood 1 
By mocking pagans rudely trod, 
henSi fs€ every awful rite. 
And quenchM thy lamps that beam'd so brigbt | 
For thee, from Britain's disUnt coast, 
Lo, Richard leads his faithful host ! 
Aloft in his heroic hand. 
Blazing', like the beacon's brand, 
0*er the lar-4iffrigbted fields. 
Resistless Kalibum * he wields. 
Frond Saracen, pollute no more 
The shrines by martyrs built of yore ! 
From each wild mountain's tiackles crowB 
hi vaio thy gloomy castles frown : 
Thy bnttering engines^ huge and hig^ 
In vain our steel-clad steeds defy ; 
And, roiling in terrific state. 
On giaiit-wfaeels harsh thnnden grata. 
When ere has hush'd the buBzing camp^ 
Amid the moon-light vapours damp. 
Thy necromantic forms, in vam, 
Haunt us on the tented jriain : 

> Kalibum is the swwd of kmg Arthur ; which 
as the monkish historians say, came into the posses- 
sion of Bicbard L and was given by that monaroh, 
in the Crnmdes, to Tancred king of Sicily, asaroyal 
present of ineathnable value, about the year 1190. 
SeethefblkNrii^oda. W. 



We bid the spectre-shapes avannC;, 
Ashtaroth, and Tennagaunt ! ^ ^ 
With many a demon, pale of hue, 
Doom'd to drink the bitter dew 
That drops from Macon's sooty trec^ 
Mid the dread grove of ebony. 
Nor magic charms, nor fiendi of HeU, 
The Christian's holy courage quell. 
Salem, in ancient majesty 
i Arise, and lift thee to the sky ! 
Soon on thy battlements divine 
Shall wave the badge of Constantine. 
Ye barons, to the Sun unfold 
Our cross with crimson wove and gold !'* 



ODE XIU. 

THE GRAVE OF KING ARTHUR. 

(PUBLUHSD IN 1777.) 



ADVEBTISKMBirr. 

King Henry the second, having undertaken «■ 
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 bis passage through 
Wales, with the songs of the Welsh baids. The 
subject of their poetry was king Arthur, whose 
history had been so disguised by &buloos inven- 
tions, that the place of his burial was in general 
scarcely known or remembered. But in one-oC 
these Welsh poems sung before Henry, it was 
recited, that king Arthur, after the battle of Camlan 
in Cornwall, was interred at Glastonbury Abbey, 
before the high altar; yet without any exte r nal 
mark or memorial. Afterwards Henry visited thw 
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 
from the Chronicle of Glastonbury. The castle of 
Cilgannan, where this discovery is supposed to havn 
been mrde, now a romantie ruin, stands on a rock 
descending to the river Teiri in Pembrokeahne ; 
and was built by Roger Montgomery, who led th« 
van of the Normans at Hastings, IV, 

Stately the feast, and high the cheer : 
Girt with many an aimed peer. 
And canopied with golden pall. 
Amid Cilganran's castle hall. 
Sublime in formidable state. 
And warlike splendour, Henry sate ; 
Prepared to stain the briny flood 
Of Shannon's lakes with rebel blood. 

8 Ashtaroth is mentioned by Milton as a generar 
name of the Syrian deities : Par. LosL i. 4^2. And 
Tennagaunt is the name given in the old romanca 
to the god of the Saracens. See Fierey'aRelk|uas^ 
vol. i. p. 74* 



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lUI 



lUumining the vantted roof, 
A thousand torches flamed aloof: 
From' massy cups, with golden gleam 
Sparkled the red roetbeglin's stream : 
To grace the gorgeous festival, 
Along the lofty-window*d hall, 
The storied tapestry was hung r - 
With minstrelsy the rafters rung 
Of harps, that with reflected light 
From the proud gallery glittered bright : 
While gtiled bards, a rival throng, 
(From distant Mona) nurse of song^ 
From Teivi, firing*d with umbrage brown. 
From Elvy's vale ^ and Cader's crown *, 
From many a shaggy precipice 
That shades lerne's hoarse abyss. 
And many a sunless solitude 
Of Radnor*s inmost mountains rude,) 
I'o crown the banquet's solemn close. 
Themes of British glory chose ; 
And to the strings of various chime 
Attemper'd thus the fabling rhyme. 

" 0*er Cornwall's cliffs the tempest roarM, 
High the screaming sea-mew soar'd ; 
On TrataggePs ^ topmost tower 
Darksome fell the sleety shower ; 
Buund the rough castle shrilly sung 
The whirling blast, and wildly flung 
On each tall rampart's thundering side 
The surges of the tumblibg tide : 
When Arthur raogM his red-croiis ranks 
On conscious Camlan's * crimsun'd banks : 
By Mordred's faithless guile decreed 
Beneath a Saxon spear to bleed ! 
Yet in vain a payntm foe 
Arm'd with fate the mighty blow ; 
For when he fell an elfin queen ^, 
All in secret, and unseen, 
O'er the fainting hero threw 
Her mantle uf ambrosial blue ; 
And bade her spirits bear him fur. 
In Merlin's agate-axl^l car. 
To her green isle's enamell'd steep, 
Far in the navel of the deep. 

* The Elvy is a small river, which rising in 
Denbighshire, and flowing through a beautiful and 
rich valley, falls intotheClwyd in Flintshire, not far 
from St. Asaph, to which, in the language of the 
country, it gives the name of Lhan-Klwy, or the 
church on the Elwy. 

^ Kader is the name of several mountains in 
Wales, BO 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 TaitaJgel cnstle, where king Ar- 
thur is said to have been bom, and to have chiefly 
resided. Some of its huge fragments still remain, 
on a rocky peniusul.i cape, of a prodigious decli- 
vity towards thr sea, and almost inaccessible from 
the land side, on the nortliCiTi coasts of Corn- 
wall, ir. 

*Onthenonh coast of Cornwall, not far fi^om 
Tintaggel : called by Camden the river Alan, 
Cambatau, and Camel. 

, ^ The name ly wfhieh she i*- known in tlie old 
IMiunces b Morgain le fay, or the faery* 



WARTOU'S POEMS. 



O'er his wounds she sprinkled 6ew 
From flowers that ia Arabia grew : 
On a rich enchanted bed 
She pillowed his majestic head ; 
O'er his brow, with w^i<:pers bland, 
Thrice she waT'd an opiate wand ; 
And to soft music's airy sound. 
Her magic curtains clos'd around. 
There, renew'd the vital spring. 
Again he rejgm a mighty king ; 
And many a fkir and fragrant clime. 
Blooming in immortal prime. 
By gales of Eden ever faun'd. 
Owns the monarch's high command: 
Thence to Britain shall return, 
( If right proi)hetlc rolls I learn) 
Borne on Victor>''s spreading plame, 
His ancient sQ^ra to resume ; 
Once more, in old heroic pride, 
I His barbed courser to bestride ; 
His knightly tablcto restore. 
And brave the ^imaments of yore.'* 

They ceas'd : when on the tmieful stage 
Advauc'd a bard, of aspect sage j 
flis silver tresses, thin besprent, 
To age a graceful reverence lent ; 
His beard, all white as spangles fix>re 
That clothe Plinlimmon's forests hoar, 
Down to his harp descending flow'd ; 
With Time's fiunt rose his features glow'd ; 
His eyes difl'us'd a soften'd fire. 
And thus he wak'd the warbling wire. 

" listen, Henry, to my read ! 
Not from fairy irealms I lead 
Bright- rob'd TracUltun, to relate 
In forged colours Arthur's fete ; 
Though much uf old romantic lure 
On the high tlieme I keep in store : 
But boastful Fiction should be dnmi>. 
Where Truth the strain might best become. 
If thine ear may siill be won 
With songs of Utlier's glorious son, 
Henry, I a tale unfold. 
Never yet in rhyme euroli'd. 
Nor suug nor liarp'd in hail or bower ; 
Which in iny youth's full early flower, 
A minstrel, sprung of Corni^ih line, 
Who spoke of kings from old Ijocrine, 
Taught me to chaut, ono vernal dawn, 
Deep in a clifl-eiictrcled lawn, 
What time the glistening vapours fled 
From clotid-envelopM Clydcr'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'd in azure vest, 
Snatch'd him, Ijy Merlin's potent spell. 
In groves of golden bliss to dwell ; 
Where, crown'd with wreaths of misletoe. 
Slaughtered kings in glory gu : 
But when befell, with winged speed. 
His champion?, on a milk-^vhite steed. 
From the battle's hurricane, • 
Bore him to Joseph's towered fane "7, 

^ Or Glyder, a mountain, in Caernarvonshire. JV, 

"' Glastonbury Abbey, «aid to be foumle<l by 

Joseph of Arimatheri, i;i a s])ot nncicntly called the 

island, or valley, of Avaionla. ^'. 



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llf 



Id the tut vale of Avaloo : 

l^ett, with chantfd oriwn, 

And the long blaze of tapen clear. 

The stol««l iathen met the bier; 

ThnMifri) the dim ilea, in order dread 

Oi martial woe, the chief they led. 

And deep intomb'd in holy ground. 

Before the altar's aolemn bound. 

Around no dusky bannen wave, 

No mouldering trophies mark tlic grave : 

A«ay the ruthless Dane has torn 

Eich trace that Time's slow touch had worn j 

And k»e, o*er the neglected stone, 

061iTion*8 veil its shade has thrown : 

The fiMled tomb, with honoor due, 

Tk thine, O Henry, to renew ! 

Thitber, when Conquest has restor'd 

VuQ recreant isle, and sheath *d the sword, 

Wba Peace with palm has crowu*d thy brows> 

Histe thee, to pay thy pilgrim vows. 

There, observant of my lore. 

The parement*8 hallowM depth explore ; 

And thrice a fistbom underneath 

Dire into the vaults of Death. 

There ihall thine eye, with wiM amaze, 

Od his gigantic stature. gaze ; 

There shalt thou find the monarch laid. 

All in warrior -weeds anay'd j 

Wearing in death his helmet-crown. 

And weapona huge of old renown. 

Martial prince, *tis thme to save 

From dark oblivion Arthur's grave! 

So nuy thy ships securely stem 

Tbe western frith : thy diadem 

^ine victorious in tbe van. 

Nor heed the slings of Ukter*9 clan : 

Thy Norman pike-men win their way 

1 p the dun rocks of Harakl's bay « : 

And from tbe steep* of rough Kildarc 

Thy prancing hoofs the fiUcon scare : 

So nuy thy bow's unerring yew 

Its shafts in Rodericks heart imbrew 9,'*- 

kaud the pealing sympliotiy 
Thf spiced goblets mantled high ; 
^Vith passions new the sonic imprcssM 
Tbr IHtenmg king's impatient breast: 
Fia>h the keen lightnings from his eyes ; 
He scorns awhile his bold emprise ; 
K'co now he seems, with eager pace, 
Tbe ctnsecrated floor to trace, 
And ope, from its tremendous gloom, 
The treasure of the wondrous f >mb : 
R'en now he bums in thought to rear, 
Final its dark bed, the ponderous spear. 
Rough with the gore of Pictish kings : 
I?ai now fond hope his fancy wing^. 
To poise the monarches massy blade, 
Of mainc-temper'd metal made ; 
And drag to day the dinted !>hield 
'niat felt the storm of Camlan's fiield. 

" The bay of Dublin. Harald, or Harsager, the 
Fair-haired, king of Norway, is said, in the life of 
Gryiiudh ap Conan, prince oip North Wales, to have 
conqoered Ireland, and to have founded Dublin. fV. 

^ Henry is supposed to have succeeded in this 
enterprise, chiefly by the use of the long bow, with 
which the Irish were entirely unacquainted. W. 



O'er tbe sepulchre profound 
E*en now, with arching sculpture crowi^d. 
He plans the chantry's choral shrine, 
llie daily dirge, and rites divine. 



xir. 

ODE FOR MUSIC. 



As performed at tbe tlieatre in Oxford, on the 2(1 
oif July, 1751, being the anniversary appointed 
by the late lord Crew, bishop of Durham, for 
the commemoration of benefactors to tbe uni- 
versity. 



Quique sacerdotcs casti, dum vita manebat; 
Quk)ue pii vates, & Phcebo digna locuti ; 
Inventas aut qui vitam excoluere per artes ; 
Quique sui memores alios fecere merendo ; 
Omnibus his — Virgil. 



aZCITAT. ACCOMP. 

WuBiE shall tbe Muse, that on the sacred shell. 
Of men in arts and arms renowned, 

The soleraq strain delights to swell ; 

Oh ! where shall Clio choose' a race. 
Whom Ptame with every laurel, everj' grace. 
Like those of Albion's envied isle, has crown'd ? 

CHORUS. 

Daughter and mistress of the sea, 

All> honoured Albion, hail ! 
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-hooour'd Albion, hail ! 

lECIT. 

But in this princely land of all that's good and 
great. 
Would Clio seek the most distinguish'd seat. 
Most blest, where all is so sublimely blest, 
That with superior grace o'erlooks the rest. 
Like a rich gem in circling gold enshrined ; 

AIR I. 

Where Isis* waters wind 

Along the sweetest shore. 
That ever felt foir Culture's hands. 
Or Spring's embroider'd mantle wore, 
Lo ! where majestic Oxford stands ; 

CHORUS. 

Mrtue's awful throne ! 
Wisdom's immortal source ! 

accrr. 
Thee well her best belov'd may boasting Albion 
own. 
Whence each fair purpose of ingenuous praise, 
All that in thought or deed diviue is deem'd. 
In one unbounded tide, one unremitted course, 
From age to age has still successive streamed ; 
M'here Learning and where Liberty have nurs'd. 
For those that in their ranks liave shone the first, 
l*hcir most laxuriant growth of ever blooming hays. 



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WARTOlPft POEMS. 



KBCITATlrt ACCOMP. 

In ancient days, when she, the t^ten eodn'd 
With inore than female fortituHe, 
Bonduca led her pamted ranks to fight ; 
Oft times, in adamantine arms arrayed, 
Pallas descended from the realms of light. 
Imperial Britonesse ! thy kindred aid. 
As once, all-glowing from the well fought day 

The goddess sought a cooling stream. 
By chaince mvitmg with their glassy gleam. 
Fair Isis waters dow'd not for away. 
Eager she Tiew'd the wave, 
Ob the coot bank she bar'd her breast, 
To the soft gale her loeks ambrosia! gave; 
And thus the wathry nj'mph address'd. 

All II. 

" Here, gentle nymph, whoe'er thou art. 

Thy sweet refreshing stores impart : 

A goddess from thy mossy brink 

Asks of thy cbrystal stream to drink : 

Lo! Pallasaskstbe friendly gift; 

Thy coial-<*iowned tresses lift, 

Bise from the wave, propitious pow>ry 

O listen from thy pearly bow'r." 
RKcrr. 
Her accents Isis* calm attention caught. 

As lonesome, in her secret cell. 
In ever-varying hues, as mimic fancy taught. 

She rang'd the many-tinctur'd shell : 
Then from her work arose the Nais mild ; 

AIR III. 

She rose, and sweetly smiPd 
With many a lovely look. 
That whispered soft consent : 

RSCIT. 

She smird, and gave the goddess in her Bood 
To dip her casque, tho' dy'd in recent blood ; 

While Pallas, as the boon she took. 
Thus pour'd the grateful sentiment, 

Aia IV. 
*' For this, thy flood the fairest name 
Of all Britannia's streams shall glide. 
Best favVite of the sons of fame. 
Of every Umefiil breast the pride : 
For on thy borders, bounteous queen, 
Where now the eowf lip paints the green 
With unregarded grace. 
Her wanton herds where Nature feeds, 
M lonesome o*er the breezy reeds ' 
She bends her silent pace ; 
Lo ! there, to wisdom's goddess dear, 
A far-fiim'd city shall her turrets rear, 

KECIT. 

" There all her force shall Pallas prove ; 
Of classic leaf with every rro'tvn. 
Bach olive, meed of old renown, 
Bach ancient wreath, which Athens wove, 
I'll bid her blooming bow'rs abound ; 
And Oxford's sacred seats shall tow^ 
To thee, mild Nail of the flood, 
The troj^y of my gratimde ! 
The temple of my power I" 
RBcrr. 
^or was the pious promise vain ; 
Soon illivtrious AHM came, [plain. 

A0d pitehM fair Wisdom's tent on Isis* plenteous 
Alfred^ on thee shall all tha Muses wait. 



Aia v. St «aowa. 
Alfred, majestic name. 
Of all our pnise the spring ! 
Thee all thy sons shall sing, 
Deck'd with the martial and the civic wreath : 
In notes most awfil shall the tnirapet breathe. 
To thee, great Bosmiltts of learning's richest slate. 
aiciT. 
Nor Alfred's bounteous hand alone, 
Oxford, thy risine temples own : 
Soon many a sa^ munificent, 
The prince, the prelate, laurel -crowned crowd. 
Their ample bounty lent , 
To build the beauteous monument^ 
That Pallas vow'd. 

aecrr. Acconr. 
And BOW she lifls her head guhlime. 
Majestic in the moss of time ; 
Nor wants there Onecia's better part, 
'Mid the proud piles of ancient art. 
Whose fif^ed spires, with ruder hand, 
Waindeet and Wickbam bravely plsnn*d ; 
Nor decent Doric to dispense 
New chaims 'mid old magni6cencd ; 
And here and there solt Corinth weaves 
Her dasdal coronet of leaves ; 

SUET. 

While, as with rival pride, their tow'rs isvade 

the sky, 
Radcliffe and Bodley seem to vie. 
Which shall deserve the fowroost place^ 
Or Gothic strength, or Attic grace. 

XBCIT. 

O Isis ! e^'er will I chant thy praise : 
Not that thy sons have struck the golden lyrs 
\^1th hands most skilful; have their brows entwin'd 
With every fairest flower of Helicon, 
The sweetest swans of all th' harmomoos choir 

And bade the musing mind 
Of every science pierce the pathless ways. 
And from the rest the wreath of wisdom won ; 

AIR VI. 

But that thy sons have dar'd to fed 
For freedom's cause a lacred zeal ; 
With British breast, and patriot pride. 
Have still corruption's cup defy'd ; 
In dangerous days untaught to fear 
Have held the name of hooour dear, 
ascrr. 

Bnt chief on this illustrious day. 
The Muse her loudest peans loves to pay. 
Erewhile she strove with accents weak 
In vain to build the lofty rhyme ; 
At length, by better' days of bounty cheered; 

She dares unfold her wing. 

AIR VII. 

Hail hour of transport most sublime ! 

In which, the man raver'd, 
Immortfti Crew commands to sing. 
And gives the pipe to breathe, the string to spealu 

CHORUS. 

Blest prelate, hail ! 
Most pious patrju, most triumphant theme ! 

From whose auspicious hand 
On Isis' tow^v new beauties beam^ 



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Kev 



Immortal Oew ! 
Bleit prelate, hail ! 

RlCIT. 

Fen vow ftr'd fcocy ftet fhee lead 
To I^me^s high seated fiioe 

The shouthog hand ! 
Cycrev»r7hallo«>dbead 
Ihne^ choicest wreaths she sees thee spread ; 
AUied soperior tiBiles the solemn scene to view J ' 

AIR VIII. 

And bids the goddess lift 

Her loudest ti-umpet to proclaim, 
O Ciew, thy consecrated gift, 
Aod echo with his o^rn in social sti-ains thy name. 
[Chorus lepeated. 



ODE xy. 



CM 



HIS MAJESnVs BraTH-DAY, 

jotfB 4th, ins. 

Amd the tfaimdcr of the war, 
Tive glory guides no echoing car; 
Nor bids the sword her hays bequeath. 
Nor stahw with Mood her brightest wreath ; 
No plained hosts her timM|ttil triumph owns 
Xor^iuils of muideed multitodes she brings. 
To fvell ttie stste of her distiBguish'd kings. 
And deck her chosen throne. 
Ob that &ir throne, to Britain dear, 
With the flowering twin'd 
High she iMmfs the hero's spear, 
Aod there with all the palms of peace oombin'd, 
B«r onpolloted hands the milder trophy rear. 
To kings like these, her genuine theme. 
The Moie st blameless homage pays, 
To George of kings like these supreme 
She wishes bonour'd length of days. 
Nor prastitiiies the tnbute of her lays. 

Tk ha to fasd Beglected gewos glow. 
And teach the r^ial bounty how to flow. 
His totelaiy sceptre's sway 
The ▼indiratfd artsohey, x 

And hftil their patnm kbg ; 
Tn his to judgment's steady line 
Then* flights CuHactk to confine. 
And yet opoiid their wing; •. 
The fleedng ftxms of fiuhion to ivstram, 
Asd bind capneious tMte in Uoth'f eternal chain. 
Seulpture, lioeatteas now no more, 
¥nak Greece her gnsfcesampte takes. 
With Nature's warmth the marble wakes. 
And spurnf the toys of moderu lore j 
InsHtive beanty simply plano'd, 
Oorioth, thy tufted shafts ascend ; 
The Gmccs guide the patnter*t hv>^y 
Ifis magic mimicry to blend. 
While wsdi the gifti his reign bestows. 

Amid the proud display. 
Those gems aioond the throne he throws, 
That shed • lelter cey : 

TebX¥Ut 



While from the sommits of sobHme teoown 
He wafts hi$ favours uuiTersal gale, 

With those sweet flowers he hhids a orowBj 
That bloom in Virtue's humble vale > 
With rich OMmidoenoe the nuptual tie 
Unbroken he combines, 
Oonspicuous in a nation's eye 
The sacred pattern, shines. 
Fair Science to reform, reward, and raise. 
To spread the lustre of domestic praises 
To foster Kmulation's holy fleme. 
To build Society's m^estic frame. 
Mankind to polish, and to inch. 

Be this the monarch's aim » 
Above ambition's giant reach 
The monarch's meed to claim. 



odjs , xn. 



THE NEW YEAR, 1786. 

" DsAR to Jore, a genial isle 

Crowns the broad AUaatic wave ; 
The seasons there in mild assemblage smile, 
^And Temal blossoins dothe the ftxdtful prime': 

There, in many a fragrant cave. 

Dwell the spirits of the brave. 
And braid with amaranth their brows Hublhue.^ ,. 

So feign'd the Grecian bords of yore ; 
And veil'd in Fable's fwcy-woven vest 

A visionary shore, 
That friintly gleam'^d on their prophetic eye 
Through the dark volume of ftiturity : 
Nor knew that in the brigfit attire they dres-c'd ' 

Albion, the green -haired heroine of the West; 
Ere yet she claim'd old Oosaa's high command, 
And snatch'd the tndeot^rom the tyrant's hand. 

Vainly^ flow'd the mystic rhyme ? 
- Mark the deedii from age to 'age. 
That 611 her trophy-plctur'd page : 
And see« with all its strength, uotam'd by time, 

SliM gtew^ her valo(ir*8 veteran rage. 

O'er Calpe's * cliift, and stecpy tow'rs. 

When streamed the red sniphureoas showers. 
And ]>^th's own hand the dread artillery threw; , 

While fkT along the midnight main 
Its glaring arch the flaming volley drew; 

Jiow triomph'd Elliot's patient train, 

BaflUng their vain confederate foes ; 
And met th> nuwonted 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 pole. 

Nor to the brooding tempest heaves ? 
Her hardy keel the stubborn billow cleaes. 
Tbe rugged Neptune of the wint'ry brine 
In vain his adamantine breast-plate wean : 

To search ooy Nature's guarded muie, 
^e bursts the barriers of th' indignant ice ; 
O'er sunless bays the beam of Science bean 2 
And rousing for around the polar sleep. 

Where Drake's bold ensigns fear'd to sweep. 
She sees new nations flock to some fell «M»ifice. 



I 



1 Gibraltar, 



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114 



WARTOira POEMS. 



Sh« apMd*. «t Odbm's m«b cmmuicl, 
Society from doep to ^leep, 
Aii4 sone to aBooe ibe bihdt ; 
From aboee to shore, o'er every leiid. 
The goMeo chain of Gommeroe wiodi. 
Meantime her patriot-cares explore 
Her own rich woof's exhanstless store ; 
Her native fleece new fcrvonr feels. 
And wakens all Hs wfatrlmg wheels, 
And mocks the rainbow's radiant cUe ; 
More wide the laboars of the loom she spreads, 
fa firmer bands domestic Oommeroe weds, 
And calls her sister-isle to share the tie : 

Nor heeds the violence that broke 
From filial realms her old parental yoke ! 
Her cities, IhrongM with many an Attic dome. 
Ask not the banner'd bastion, massy proof j 
Firm as the castle's feudal roof, 
Stands the Briton's social home.-* 
Hear, Gaol, of England's liberty the lot ! 
Right, Order, Law, protect her simplest plain ; 
Nor scorn to gfu^ the shepherd's oighdy fold. 
And watch around the forest oot 
With conscious certainty, the swain 
Gives to the' ground his trusted grain, 

With ^agier bopo the reddening harvest eyes ; 

And' claims the rijpe autumqal gold. 
The meed of toil, ot industry the prize. 
For ours the kiog, who boasto a parent's praise^ . 

Whose band the people's sceptre sways ; 
Ours is the senate, not a mecious nan^, 
Whose active plans pervade the civil frame t 
Where bpld debate it* noblect war displays. 
And, m the kindling strife, unlocks the tide 
Of nwnliest eloquence, and rolls the torrent wide. 

Haaoe then, each vain complaint, away, 

'Each captious donbt, and eantioas fear I 
Nor blast the new-bom year. 

That anwras waits the spring's sbw*shooting ny : 

Nor deem that Albion's hooomn cease to bloom. 

With candid glance, th' impartial Muse, 

Invok'4 on this anspicioos mora, 
The present scans^ the distant scene pmiaesy 
And breaks opinion's speculative gloom : 
Ibteijyreter of ages yet unborn. 
Full right she spells the characters of Fate, 
That Albion still shall kei^ her wonted state I 

Still in eternal story shine, « 

Of Victory the sea-beat shrine ; 

The source of every splendid art, 
<L)f old, of fUtore worlds the univcrial marl. 



ODE XVIL 

^ FOR 

RIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAV, 
IV Nt 4tb, 1786. 

Whbn freedom nurs'd her native fire 

In ancient Greece, and rul'd the lyre ; 
Her bards, disdainful, from the tyrant's browv 

The 6nsel gifts of flattery tore ; 
But paid to guiltless power their willing vow : 

And to the throne of virtuous kings. 
Tempering the tone of their vindictive strings^ 

From truth's unprostituted store, 
The fragrant wrcatli of gratulation bore. 



'Twas thus AlcttoR smota the manly dbord $ 

And Pindar on the Persian lord 

His noten of indignation bnri'd. 
And spum'd the minstrel sieves of eastern sway. 
Prom trembling Thebes eztortiag eonaoioiis abame; 
But o'er the diadem, by freedom's flame 
Ilium 'd, the banner of renown unfurl'd i 

Thus to his Hiero decreed, 
'Mongst the bold chieftains of the Psrthian gam^ 
The brightest verdure of Castalia's bay ; 

And gave an ampler meed 
Of Pisan palms, than hi the field of &me 
Were wont to crown the car's victorious speed : 
Andiiail'd his scepter'd champion's patriot zeal. 
Who miz'd the monarch's with the people's weal ; 

From civil plans who ctaim'd'applanse. 
And tratn'd obedient realms to Spartan laws. 
And he, sweet master of the Doric oat, 

Theocritus, forsook awhile 

The graces of his pastoral isle, 
' The lowing rale, the bleating cote. 

The clusters on the sonny steep, 
, And Pan's own umbrage, dark and deep. 

The caverns hung with ivy -twine. 

The clifis that wav'd with oak and pine. 

And Etna's hoar romantic pile : 

And caught the bold Homeric note. 

In stately sounds eaalting high. 

The reign of bomiteoas Ptolemy : 

like the plenty-teeming tkie 

Of his own Nile's redundant flood. 

O'er tiM cheer'd nations, fer and wUt, 
Diffnsing opulence and public good j 

While in the rkhly-waiWed lays 

Was blended Berenice's namo. 

Pattern fiiir of female fame, 

Soft'ning with domestte life 

Imperial splendour's daaling reya, 

The queen, the mother, and the wife ! 
To deck with honour due this festal day, 
O for a fttrain from these sublimer bards ! 
Who free to grant, yet fearless to refuse 
Their awful suffrage, with impartial aim 
Invok'd the jealous panegyric Muse ; 
Nor, but to genuine worth's severer claim. 

Their prood dittiaetkm deign'd to pay, ' 
Stem arbtters of glory's bright awards 1 

For peeriew bards like these alone. 

The barda of Greece might best adoni. 
With seemly song, the monarch's natal mom ^ 
Who, throo'd hi the magnifioence of peace. 

Rivals their richest regal theme : 

Who rules a people like their own, 

In arms, in poiish'd arts supreme } 

Who bids his Britain vie with Oraeee. 




THE NEW YEAR, 1787. 

In rough magnificence array'd. 
When ancient Chivalry displayM 
The pomp of her heroic games 
And crested chiefs, and tissued 
Assembled, at the olarion*s call. 
In aoiM prood cattle's kigli^uvb'd t^ 



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lb gm raButic Qlofy^ gfoial ritet: 
i«K»to oltbe forgeous mival, 
Tbe minitrel ithick h» kindred string, 
iad told of many a iteel-clad king, 
Who Id tbt tmtngf tnun'd hit baidy kaigbts; 
Or bore the radiant red-crois shield 
Mid tbe bold peen of Salem's field ; 
Who Inven'd pagap climes to quell 
Tbe visud lue*i terrific spell ; 
Id rode affirays untaught to fear 
Tbe Saracen's gigantic spear. 
Tbe Hsfeeoing champions felt tbe fabling rhyme 
WUh fairy trappings fraught, and shook their plumes 
sabiime. 

&ich vera tbe themes of ragal pr^ist 
Dear to tbe bvd of alder days i 
Tbe soqgs, to satai^c virtue dear. 
That voo of yore the public ear j 
ErePbKty, sedate and sage. 
Had <pM9icb'd tbe fires oC feudal 
Bad itcnm'd the torrent of < 



t of eternal slanfi^ 
Indcharm'd to rest an uaralentii^ age-*- 
No mora, m fbrmidable state. 
The esstle shots Jtvtkundariiit gate 1 ' 
Kev Qoloon suit thf seaaes of soAatt>d lid i 
No mora, bartrkling bmhad steads^ 
idrantaraoi Valour idly Uctfds: 
ind Bov the bud ki altar'd tOBM 
A thaaoa of woitbaer trbmph OVM ; 
By spciel ifliecary b^guU'd, 
He moeUa his harp to monnen mild i 
Nor looger weavas the vieoth of war akwib 
Nirbsib tbe botfJkforiM thai gnoM the 0«tuc 
tbraM. 

Aad Bov ha toiMB bia plaiafiTe lay 
To bini^ wha phml the civic bay ! 
Wbpehooae the patriot soveraigtf s part, 
DiAmig coouB^va, peace, and art ; 
Wbospraad tbe viituoos pattern wi^e. 
And triamph id a nation's pride ; 
Who seek eay Seieace in her c1oisteT*d nook, 
WbereTbaaM#,Tetraral, rolls an aitlem tide ; 
Wbo low to vbBV the vale divine, 
Wbera ivfial Natoie and tbe Nine, 
Aaddosteriag towen tbetnfted grove oPerkwk; 
To kiaga, who rale a filial land. 
Who daoB a people's vows and pray*n, 
Sbottid lYeaaoa arm the weakest band i \ 
Totheaa hie heart-felt prahe he bean, 
Anl wkh aaw nqptura bastes to greet 
TUsfiealal man, that hmgs to meet. 
With lookiaBt auspices, tbe langhiog Spring: 
Aadopes bar glad caraer, with blessings on herwing! 



CDS XIX 

OM 

HIS MAJBSTrs BIRTH.DAY, 
Jvm 4th, n87. 

Tai aoUeit bards of Albka^a choir 
Bara stnick of old this fealal lyre, 
ae SGiaaec, abugglii« oA io van. 
Hod dar'd to break her Gothic chain. 



Fir'd with tbe ^ he diaiig*d to 1 
His Norman ounstrdsy's discordant chime ; 
In tones m^yestic hence be told 
The banquet of Cambuscan bold ; 
And oft be sung (howe'er the rhyme 
Has moulder'd to tbe touch of time) 
His martial master's knightly board. 
And Arthur's ancient rites restored ; 
Tbe prince in sable steel that sternly frownM, 
And Gallia's captive king, and Cressy's wreath re- 
nown'd. 
Won from tbe shef^erd's simple meed, 
Tbe whispen wild of Mufla's reed. 
Sage Spenser wak'd his lofty lay 
To grace Eliaa'b golden sway : 
O'er the proud theme new lustre to diffuse. 
He chose the gorgeons aliegDrie Muse, 
And call'd to life ohl Other's elfin tale, 
And rov'd thro' many a necromantio vale^ 
Pourtraying chiefii that knew to tame 
Tbe goblin^ ire, the dragon** fiame. 
To pierce the dark enchanted, ball. 
Where Virtue sate in lonely thralL 

From fabling Phncy's inmost ston 
\ A rich romantic robe he bora ; 

A veil with vishmary t ra ppings hua^^. 
And o'er his virgra-qoean tbe ikf teatops flmig; 
At length the matchless Dryden came, 
■To light tbe Muses' dearer flame ; 
To lofty numbers grace \6 lend, 
And strength wHh melody to blend ; 
To triumph in the bold cAreer of song. 
And roll tb' unwearied energy along. 
Does tbe mean incense of promiscuous praise. 
Does servile fear, diograce his ragal bays ? 
I spurn his panegyric strings. 
His partial homage, tun'd to kings ! 
Be mine, to catch his manlier chord. 
That paints tb' impassion'd Persian lord. 

By glory fir'd, to pity su'd, 
Rous'd to revenge, h^ love subdu'd ; 
And still, with transport new, the strains to trace, 
That chant tbe Tbeban pair, and Tancred's deadly 



Of Maai's bay to bloaeft on Ghancer's bratr 



to the atte^i^ joii aadi m hit 



■V^7*^Bfcbyan onhi^y maniac. 



Had these bM bards been caH'd, to pay 
The vows of this auspicious day. 
Each had oonfess'd a fiurer throne, 
A mightier wvereign than his own ! 
Chaucer had made his hero-monarch yield 
Tbe martial frme of Crassy's well-liBught field 
To peaceful prowew, and tbe oonqawts caha. 
That braid the sceptre with tbe patriot's palm : 

His chaplets of fantastic bloom, 
His oolourings, warm from Fiction's loom, 
Spenser bad cast in scorn away. 
And deck'd with truth alone the lay; 
All real here, tbe bard bad seen 
Tbe gloriea of bis pictur'd queen I 
The tuneful Dryden bad not flatler'd hera, 
Hit lyre had blameless been, bis tribute all smoera 1 



ODE XX 
foa 

THE NEW YEAR, 1788. 

RvDi was tbe pile, and massy proof. 
That first uprear*d its haughty roof 



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n€ 



WARTOirS POEMS. 



On WindscyPs brow rablime, m warlike state : 

Tbe Korman tyrant's jealous hand 

The giant fabric proudly plaon'd : 

With recent victory elate, 

" On this majestic steep," he cried, 
" A regal fortress, threatening? wirfe, 

Shall spread my terronn to the distant hilb^; 
Its formidable shade shall throw 
Far o'er the broad ocpanse below. 
Where winds yon mighty flood, and amply fills 
With flowery verdure, or with golden grain, 
The fiursst flekis that deck my newdomam ! 

Aad Londoi^s toweia |hat reach the watdiman's 

eye, [sky." 

Shall see with conscioas awe my bulwark dimb the 

Unchanged, through many a hardy race» 
Stood the rough dome in sullen grace ; 

Still on its tngry front defiance frown d : 

Though monarclis kept their state within. 
Still munnnr'd with the martial din 
The gloomy gateway's aroh profouftd; 
And armedibrmi, in airy row. 
Bent o'er the battlements their bews^ 

And blood-stain'd bamiecs crown'd its hostile head ; 
And oft its hoary rampailfl wore 
The njgg'd scars of conflict sow $ 

What time, pavilion'd on the iieigbbouring mead, 
Th' indfgnant barons raog'd m bright array 
Their feudal bands to curb despotic sway ; 
And leagu'd a Briton's birthright to restore. 

Prom John's reluctant grasp the roll of freedom borsL 

When lo, the king, that wreath'd his shield 
With lilies pluck'd on Cressy^M field, 

Heav'd from its base the monld'ring Norman frame! 
' New glory clotb'd th' exulting steep. 
The portals tower'd with ampler sweep; 
And Valour's soften'd genius came, 
Hen held his pomp, and traird the pall 
Of triumph through the trophied hall ; 

And War was clad awhile in gorgeous weeds : 
Amid the martial pageantr^s. 
While Beauty's glance adjudg'd the prize. 
And beam'd sweet influence on heroic deeds. 
Kor kMBg, ere Henry's holy zeni, to breathe 
A milder charm upon the scenes beneath, 
Rear'd in tbe watoy glade his classic shrine, 

And catt'd his stripling-quire, to woo tbe willingl^ne. 

To this imperial seat to lend 
Its pride supreme, and nobly blend 
Bitthh magniffeence with Attic art ; 
Proud castle, to thy banner'd bowers, 
Lo f Picture bids her glowing powers 
Their bold historic groups impart ; 
She bids th' illuminatad pane. 
Along thy lofty-vaulted fiine. 
Shed the dim bittse of radiance richly clear.^* 
Still may such arts of Peace engage 
Hieir patron's care ! But should the rage 
Of war to battle rouse the new-born year, 
Britain arise, and wake the slumbering fire. 
Vindictive dart thy quick-rekindling ire ! 
Or, ann'd to strike, in mercy spare the fbe ; 
AhA lift thy thundering hoad, and then withheld the 
blowl 



i^mxxL 



ov 

HIS MAJECTVi BIRTH-IMlT. 

Juva 4tlr, ITSS. 

What native genius taught the Britoos bold 

To guard their sea-girt clifi of old ? 

Twas liberty : she taught disdain 

Of death, of Rome's impenal chain. 
She bade tbe druld harp to battle sound. 
In tones prophetic thro' the gloom profound 
Of forests hoar, with holy foliage hung ; 
From grove to grove tbe pealing prelude rang ; 
Belinus > call'd his painted tribes around. 

And, rough with many a veterai; scar. 
Swept the pale legions with the scftlied car^ 

While baffled CsBsar fled to gain 
An easier triumph on Phatsalia'ft plain ; 
And left the stubborn isle to stand elate 
Amidst a oonqoei'd world, ia kme majeftle stAte ? 

A kindred qMrit sooo to Britain^ alNNt^ 

The aooa of Saamn Bva bore ; 

Fraught with th' unconqocanable soof. 

Who died, to drain the w«nior-bowf. 
In that bright hall, where Odin's Gothte lliraiie 
With the brood blaae of brandish'd ifiilchioiM dMne; 
Where the hmg rooft rebounded to thedhi 
Of spectre chieft, who feasted far witfiin 
Yet. not intent on deathAil deeds akme. 

They felt the Area of social seal, 
The peaceful wisdom of the public weal ; 

Though nursed iaanaa and huiy Mifo, * 
They knew to frame tbe plana of temper'd life; 
The king's, tbe people's,. balaao'd damn to flaciMt 
On one eternal bascb jndiMiMttUf. bound. 

Sudden, td shake the Saxons nild doOMua, 
Rush'd in rude swarms t||e robber Daoc^ 
From frozen wastes, and caverns wild* 
To genial England's scenes b^l'd ; 
And in his clamorous van eoculting came 
The demons foul of fiuniae and of flame : 
Witness tbe sheep-clad summits, rooghly Crown *d 
With many a frowning foss and airy mound. 
Which yet his desultory maroh proclaim I— - 

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 breve achievement, and to counsel sage ; 
For oft in savage breasts tbe buried aeeda 
or brooding virtue live, and freedom's feiiest deeds! 

But see, triumphant o'er tbe sguthem wave. 
The Norman sweeps ! Tho* first he gave 
New grace to Briton's naked plain, 
With Arts and Mauners in histrafai ; 
And many a &ne he rear'd, that still sublime 
In massy poinp has mock'd the stealth of time ^ 
And castle fair, that stript from half its toir'ri^ 
From some broad steep inihatter'd glory iow*n : 
Yet brought he Slavery fhim a softer clime ; 

> Ca8sivelfaumua,CsiBihrtiinpiis, or, as he ia odlesl 
by the old English historians, Gusibelnnu. 1 lie- 
Britoos united under him, and resisted the i 
in vaaiwa of GtMMv iMy4b« yoin btftwv Chriit. 



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ODIS. 



117 



Iteb ere, tbe «RlBw*t notes wvmv 
fTte Bov but lOoUwi the musing poet*8 ear) 

At tbe wir tyfttot's stern command, 
WuB^ to novdcome reii a wakeful land ; 
WUe prood Oppreskm o»er the rarish'd field 
B^ nii^d his aimed band, and shook the fendal 



SbopM thnlfaat Rpeedom to despotic 8way» 
Rr which, in many a fierce affray, 
Tbe Wtoui bold, the Saxons bled, 
Hii Dnah JsvriinB Leswin led 

OVr HKHnffi' pl^tostay the Norman yoke ? 

&e fidt, bwt to resist, the sodden stroke : 

Ibc tyitfft-faarao grvsp^ the patriot steel, 

iai tai^ the tyrant king iU foroe to feel ; 

jkri «|niek refeoge the regal bondage broke, 
ind «ili, vicfaang>d and nnoontroil*d, 

lb itsenad rights shaU the dread empire bold ; 
Bar b, iwvering Britain^ cause, 
A khv Mw Iwsire lends to nal ive laws, 
Tbe saerad asvereign of this festal day 

Qa JUbioB^eU mmamn icAects a kindred ray I 



ODEJOIL 



HB MAJESTTY's BIRTH-DAY, 

Jinia4th>n89. 

As when Che demon of the summer storm 
Vafta ferth the no(ntide landscape to deferm, 
Ikifc grows the vale, and duk the distant grove, 
A^ thick the bolts of angry Jore 
Athwart the wat*ry welkin glide, 
^id sbeams tbe aerial toiTrent fer and 
Ifby short fits the straggling ray 
SbonUdart a momentary day, 
TV ilhimin'd mountain glows awhile, 
9f feait d^rees the radiant glance 
Pwrples th' horizon's pale expanse, 
Aad gilds the gloom with hasty smile : 
Ah ! fidJe smile, too swiftly part ! 
Agaift lesoonda thtsweepiiig btart , 
With bosoier din the demon howls ; 
Agam thehlactaning concaiNs scowls ; 
S^dcB the shades of the meridian night 
rvM to the triumph of vdcindling light ; 
The raJ d e ui ii g Sao legaios his golden sway ; 
M Ifatase stands revealed in all her bright array. 
S^ was tbe dbapgeful conflict that possessed 
Wkh lirmbfii^ tunalt every British breast, 
WksB AAisa, tiiwiiiing in the van sublime 
Of Glory^ waieh, from dime to clime 
bsied, beloT*d, rever*d, reoown'd, 
ftr brawa with emy blissful chaplet be 
WbM, in htr mid career of state. 
She feit IMT iBDiiarch's awful fete ! 
ia Iteey feott th* Ahm|hty throne 
UAttdewB OB nan, and wavnig wide 
Btr wnatb tbatp in the rainbow dyed, 
WMk hMSofioiUo'^ ln>*i« •bone, 



lad Wadky ftoos kav sapphire dood 



lb tmhsfMrt tttfoM a peopla*^ feani. 
And stayed a people's tide of tean : 
Bade this blert dawn with beams auspiciousapriqg. 
With hope serene, with healing on its wing i 
And gave a sovereign o'er a grateful land [band. 
Again with vigorous grasp to stretch the acepter'd 

O favour'd king, what rapture more refin'd. 
What mightier joy can fill tbe human mind. 
Than what tbe monarch's ooascious bosom feels, 
At whofte dread throne a nation kneels. 
And hails its father, friend, and lord, 
To life's career, lo patriot sway restor'd j 
And bids tbe loud responsive voice 
Of union all around rejoice ? 
For thus to thee when Britons how. 
Warm and spontaneous from the heart, 
As late tbcir tears, their transports start. 
And nature dictates duty^s vow. 
To thee, recalPd to sacred health. 
Did the proud citjr's lavidi wealth. 
Did crowded streets alone display 
The long* drawn blaze, the festal ray ? 
Meek Poverty her scainty cottage grac'd. 
And flung her gleam across the lonely waste t 
Th' exulting isle in one 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, the venal lore. 
To Latian rulers dealt of yore, 
O'er guilty pomp and hated power 

When rtream'd the sparkling panegyric showari 
And slaves, to sovereigns unendear'd, 
Their pliant trophies coldly reared ! 
For are the charities, that blend 
Monnreh with man, to tyrants known ? 
The tender ties, that to the throne 
A mild domestic glory lend, 
Of wedded love the league sincere, 
Tlie virtupus consort's feitbful tear ? 
Nor this the verse, that flattery brings, 
Nor here I rtrike a Siren^ 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 ! 
Albkm the garhmd gives on this d'lstiqguidi'd day. 



ODE XXUL 

poa 

HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, 

JvKB 4tb, 1790. 

WmnH what fonstam's craggy cell 
Delighto tbe goddess Health to dweU* 
Where Dram the rigid roof distills 
Her richert stream in steely rills ? 
What mineral |g:ems intwine her hamkl locks ? 
Lo! sparkling high from potent qsrings 
To Bntain's sons her cup she brii^ss !-^ 
Romantic MatkxdL I 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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lis 



WARTOfNV POEMS. 



.And hattK, radhiM aloair ^Im tbu^Binv ilioro, 
Indi^piaiit DtnreBt's deraltotytide 

Hit rqgged ebamiel rudely cbide, [gora?— 
BinMnt, whoeesbaggy wreath is tttin'd with JDwiish 
. Or does she drew her naiad c«v« 
ITith coral spoils fhim Neptone^ wov^ 
And bold short revels with the train 
Of oymphs that tread the neighbouring main. 
And from the cli£b of Avon's cavem*d side 
Temper the balmy beverage pure. 
That, fraught with drops <J precious core. 
Brings back to trembling hope the drooping bride, 
niat in the virgin^s cheek renews the rose. 
And wraps the eye of pain in quick repose > 
While oft she climbs the mountam's shelving 

steeps. 
And calls her votaries wan to catch the gale. 
That breathes o*er Ashton^s el my vale. 
And from the Cambrian hills the billowy Severn 



Or broods the nymph with watehfat wing 
0*er ancient Badon's mystic spring. 
And speeds from its sulphureous source 
The steamy torrent's secret courte. 
And fiins th' eternal spailcs of hidden fli«, 
^ In deep unfathomM beds below 
By Bladud's magic taught to glow, 
Bladud, high theme of Fancy's gotbic lyre i — 
Or opes the healing power her chosen fount 
In the rich veina of Malvern's ample mount. 
From whose tall ridge the noontide wandei«r 

views 
Pomona's purple realm, in April's pride. 
Its blaze of bloom eiqianding wide. 
And waving groves array'd in Flora's fiiirasthues?^ 

Haunts she the scene, where Nature low'rv 

O'er Buxton's heath in Imgering show'zs ? 

Or loves she more, with sandal fleet 
In matin dance the nymphs to meet. 
That on the flowery marge of Chelder play } 
Who, boastful of the stately traio. 
That deign'd to grace his simple plain, 
late with new pride along bis reedy way 
Bore to Sabrina wreaths of brighter hue. 
And mark'd his pastoral urn with emblems new..^ 
Howe'er these streams ambrosial may detain 
Thy steps, O genial Health, yet not alone 
Thy gifls the naiad sisters own ; [main. 

Thine too the briny flood, and Ocean's hoar do- 

And lo, amid the watery roar 
In Thetis' car she skims the shore. 

Where Portland's brows, embattled high 

"With rocks, in rugged majesty 
Frown o'er the billowy, «ixl the storm restrain. 
She beckons Britain's scepte^d pair 
Her treasines of the deep to share !•>-. 
Hail then, on this glad mora, the mighty main ! 
Which lends the boon dhrine oi leiqcthen'd days 
To those who wear the noUest regal hayi ; 
That mighty mam, which oo iu oaoacioos tide 
Their bomidleas commerce pours on e?ery dime. 

Their danntlen banner bean snUime ; 
And w«lls their pomp of war, and spnada their 

thonderwidel 



80NNBT& 






SONNET L 

WRITTEN AT WINSLADE 

IN HAMPSHIRE. 

(warrmi aboctt thi t^ar 1750. Pmisan w 

Dodslkt's Collbctiom 17*75.) 

WmsLAOB, thy beeoh-capt hills, with waving grua 
Mantled, thy chequerM views of wood and bwn, 
Whilom could charm, or when the gradual dawn 
'Oan the gray mist with orient pnr^ stab. 
Or evening glimmer*d o'er the folded tnm : 
Her ^rest landscapes whence my Muse has diawn, 
Too free with servile oourdy phrase to fawn, 
Too weak to try the buskin's stately strain : 
Yet now no more thy slopes of beech and core. 
Nor views invite, since he > fu distast atreys, 
With whom I traced their sweets at eve and mora, 
From Albion iu, to cull Hesperian bays ; 
In this alone they please, howe'er forlorn. 
That still they can recal those happier days. 

SONNET It 
ON BATHING. 

(this AKn THE FOLiOWINO SOMNBTI WSaS PUBLISfllD 

IM 1777.) 

Wheh late the trees were stript by Whiter pale, 
Young Health, a diyad-maid in vestare green. 
Or like the forest^ssilver-quiyer'd qu^pn. 
On airy uplands met the piercing gale; 
And, ere its eariiest echo shook the vale. 
Watching the hunter's joyous bom was seen. 
But since, gay-thron'd in fiery chariot sheen. 
Summer has smote each daisy-dappled dale ; 
She to the cave retires, high-arch'd beneath 
The fount that laves proud bis' towery brim i 
And now, all glad the tempemte air to breathe^ 
While cooling drops distil from arches dim. 
Binding her dewy locks with sedgy wreath. 
She sits amid the quire of Naiads trim. 



SONNET m. 
wirmir iv a blamm leap op mtopa&b'i 

MOWAiTIOOir. 

Dbbm not, devoid of elegance, the sage. 

By fancy's genuine feelhigs unbegoil'd. 

Of pamfal pedantry the poring <A^kl I 

Who turns, of these proud domes, W liiebovfe pag^ 

Now sunk by time, and Henry's fleroer nge. 

Think'st thou the waibimg Muses never wtM^Pd 

On his lone hours ? Ingenuous views eiigng« 

His thoughts, on themes, undaasie Iblselw styPd, 

Intent While eloisteed Piety displays 

Her mouldering roll, the pierthig eye eitploreB 

New manners, and the pomp of dder days. 

Whence culls the pensive bard his pieliit*d sto 

Nor rough, nor barren, are the wini^ng wsiyn 

Of hoar Antiquity, bat stnM wkh flewws. 

> His brother Dr. Joi Warton. 



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SONNETS. 



IIS 



SONKET IF. 

WRrmM AT STOMEIIBIIGS* 

Tloo Boblat roooument of Albion's isle ! 

Wbctber by Merlin's aid from ScythJa't shore \ 

To Amber's €sUl plain Pendrafoo bona, 

Hofe frame of giant- bands, the migbty pile, 

P entomb his Britow slain bv He^gbt's guile : 

Or draid priests, sprinkled with human gore, 

Taofrbt mid thy massy maze tbeir mybtic lore. 

Or I^nish cbi^s, enricb'd with savage spoil. 

To VictDfy*s idol vast, an unhewn shrine, 

Itrar'd the nide heap : or, in thy haliow'd round, 

Kepose the kings of Brutus' genuine line j 

Or here thoee kings in solemn state were crovn'd : 

Stodioos to trace thy wondrous origin. 

We mmt on many an ancient tale reoown'd. 



SONNET rn. 



SONNET r. 



wirrrxM aitbr sesimp wilton-houii. 

FioM Pembroke's princely dome, where mimic Ait 

Decb with a magic hand the dasslii^s bov'rs. 

Its living hues where the warm pencil pour^ 

Aad breathing forms from the rude marble start. 

How fa> life** humbler scene can 1 depart ! 

My breast all glowing from those gorgeous tow'ri, 

1b my bw cell how cheat the sullen hours ! 

Vain the oodiplaint : for Fancy can impart 

(To iaie superior, and to fortune's dooni) 

Wliate'er adorns the stately-storied hall : 

She, mid the dungeon's solitary gloom, 

Gtn dress the Graces in their Attic pall : 

fid the green landscape's vernal beauty bloom ; 

And in bright trophies clothe the twilight waU. 



SONNET VI 
TS MR. GRAY. 

Not fliat her blooms aie markM with beanty^t hue* 
Hy raslie Mote her vodve chaplet brings ; 
Coseen^ unheard, O Gray, to thee she sings !-— 
WhQe sl0w1y..p«cnig thro> the chnrch-yard dew; 
At eoHev-time, beneath the dark-green yew. 
Thy pemire gemns strikes the moral strings; 
Or home siMmie on Inspiratkm's wings, 
Besn GhnMift baxds devote the dreadful clue 
OTEdward's taoe, with mmthett «Mtl deai'd; 
Csa aught my pipe to reach thine ear essay ? 
No, haid divme I For many a care begnil'd 
^ the sweet nagie of thy soothing lay, 
For many a raptni'd thonght, and vision wiU!, 
To thee this strain <yf grmtitnde I pay. 



>One^ 



the Bacdiih tnditioiii about Stone- 



While summer-suns o'er the gay prospect play'd« 
Through Surry's verdant soeoea, vrti^ ^om 

spreads 
Mid intermingling elms her flowery meads. 
And Hascombe's hill, in towering groves arrayed, 
Rear'd its romantic steep, with mind serene, 
I joumey'd blithe. Full pensive I retum'd ; 
For now my breast with hopel^ passion bum'd. 
Wet with hoar milts appear'd the g«udy scene. 
Which late in careless indolcDce I pass'd ; 
And Autumn all around these hues had cast 
Where past delight my recent grief might trace. 
Sad change, that Nature a congenial gtdom [chaae^ 
Should wear, when most, my cheerless niood t» 
I wish'd her green attire, and wonted bloom 1 



SONNET rm. 

ON KING ARTHUR'S ROUND TABLE; 

AT 



Whirb Venta*0 Norman castle atill opreari 
Its ifafhBr'd hall, that o'er the graay Am, 
And scatteiM flinty fhtgments dad In moM, 
On yeoder steep in naked state appears; 
High-hong remklnt, the pride of warlike ymn, 
Oki Arthur's boanl : on the capaokme fomd 
Some Britkh pen has sketch'dthe names ranoimM, 
In mukt obecare, of his immortal peerh 
Thoogh joined by magic skill, with mnny * ihyme^ 
The Drukl flrame, unhonour'd, fidls a prey 
To the slow vengeance of the wisttrd Time, 
And fade the British characters awhy ; 
Yet Spenier'a page, that chants in verse snblim 
Those cUeb, shall Kve, nneonaekrat of decay. 



SONNET i£ 
TO THE RIVBR LODOK*. 

Ah! what a weaiy race my fhet haire ran, 
Shice first I trod thy hanks with alden crownM, 
And thought my way was all thro' fairy gromid. 
Beneath thy azure sky, and golden snn : 
Where first my Muse to lisp her notes begnni 
While pensive Memory traces back the roond. 
Which flUs the varied interval between ; 
Much pleasure, more of sorrow, marks the soens. 
Sweet native stream ! those skies and sons so pn% 
No more return, to cheer my evenmg road ! 
Yet still one joy remahis, that not obscure. 
Nor useless, all my vacant days have flow'd. 
From youth's gay dawn to manhood's prime m a tu re ; 
Nor with the Mose's laurel unbestow^d. 

1 Near l^ngstoke, WartOD*B native country. ^ ' 



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ise 



WARTON* PO£MS. 



SATIRICAL 

AND 

HUMOROUS PIECES. 

NEWHARKET, 

A SATIRE. 

(voBUtm iM 1751.) 



TMhfWMH Imnm 
'XU i^Mf Mam 
Tfi yf. 



Sophocl. Elect. 508. 



Hit coantry'tbope, when now the blooming heir 
Has lort the parent's or the guardian's care ; 
Fond to possess, yet eager to destroy. 
Of each vain youth, say, what's the darling joy ? 
Of each rash frolic what the source and end, 
His sole and flr<t ambition what ?— to spend. 

Some 'squires, to Gallia's oooks detocad dupes. 
Whole manors melt in sauce, or drown in soups : 
Another doats on Sddlecs, tUl be sees 
His hills no longer crown'd with tow'ring trees ; 
Comrinc'd too late that modem strains can move, 
like those of ancient Greece, th' obeflient grove : 
In h^Mllcss statues rich, and useless urns, 
' MarmcKoo fiorn the classic tour returns.— 
^nfe would yon learo, ye leisure-loviog 'squires. 
How best ye may disgrace your pnident sires ; 
How soonest soar to fasbtooable shame. 
Be damn'd at once to ruin— and to hme ; 
By handf of grooms ambitious to be crown'd, 
O greatly di^ to tread Olympic ground ! 

What dreams id conquest flushed HUario'g breast. 
When the good knight at last retir'd to rest ! 
Behold the youth with new-felt rapture mark 
JEAch pleasing prospect of the spacious park : 
That park, where bemties nndisgais'd engage, 
Those beauties less the work of art than age ; 
In simple sUte where genuine Nature wears 
Her venerable dress of nncient yean ; 
Where all the charms of chance with order meet 
The rude, t^ gay, the gmcerui, and Uie great. 
Here aged oaks uprear their brandHis hoar. 
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 cheqaer'd scene. 
Glowing in gay diversities of green : 
There the full stream thro* intermiogTiog glades. 
Shines a broad lake, or falls , in deep ciascades. ^ 
Nor wanta there hazle copse, or beechen lawn^^, 
fo cheer with sun or shade the bouwliug fawn. 

And see the good old seat, whose Gothic tow'rs 
Awftil emerge from yonder tufted bowers ; 
Whose raftec'd hall the crowding tenants fed. 
And dealt to Age and Want their daily bread ; 
Where crested knights with peerless damsels join'd. 
At hifph and solemn fiestivals have din'd ; 
Piesenting oft Csir '^rtne's shining taskj 
In inystic pageantries, and moral 



But vain all aucient praise, or boast of bbtb. 
Vain all the palms of old heroic worth ! 
At onoe a bankrupt and a prosp e rous hdr, 
Hilario bets,-*-^|)ark, house, dinolTe in air ; . 
With antique armour hnng, his trojAiied rooms 
Descend to gamesters, firostitntes, and grooms. 
He-sees his steel-clad sires, and mothers mild. 
Who bravely shook the lance, or sweetly smil'd. 
All th\e Ihir series of the whiskeHd race. 
Whose pictorVl forms the stately gallery grace ^ 
Debas'd, abus'd, the price of ill-got gold. 
To deck some tavern vile, at auctions sold. 
The parish wonders at the nnopenin^ door. 
The chimnies blaze, the tables groan, no more. 
Thick w«eds around th' untrodden courts arise. 
And all the social scene in silence lies. 
Himself, the losr politely to repair. 
Turns atheist, 6ddler, highwayman, or play'r ; 
At length, the scorn, the shame of man and G<^ 
Is doom'd to rub the steeds that once he rodo. 

Ye riTal youths, your golden hopes how rwm. 
Your dreams of thousands on the listed plain ! 
Not more fantastic Sancho's airy course. 
When madly mounted on the nugic horse >, 
He piero'd Heav'tt's opening qiheres with daszled 

eyes 
And ioem'd to soar In visionary sklea. 
Nor less, I ween, precarious is the meed 
Of yonng adventurers on the Muse*8 steed | 
For poets have, like you, their destin'd rouiidj 
And onrs is but a race on classic gronnd. 

Long time, the child of jfMitrimouial ease, 
Hi|molitus had carv'd siiloins in peace ; 
Had qnafPd me9f% unvex'd by toil or wife. 
The mild Octobet of a private life : 
Long liv^d with calm domestic conquests cn>wn*dy 
And kiird his game on safe paternal ground : 
And, deaf to Honour's or Ambition^s call. 
With rural spoils adom'd his hoary halL 
As bland he poiTd the pipe o*er weekly news, 
His' bosom kindles with sublimer views. 
Ix> there, thy triumphs,Taafle, thy pa]ms,Portnior« ! 
Tempt him to stake his lands and treasnr'd store. 
Like a new bruiser on Broughtonic sand. 
Amid the lists our hero takes his stand ; 
Sock'd by. the sharper, to the peer a prey. 
He rolls his eyes, that witness huge dismay ; 
When lo ! the chance of one ingk>rioas heat 
Strips him of seqnl cheer and smg retrenL 
How awkward now he bears disgrace and dirt. 
Nor knows the poor's last refuge, to be peit !— . 
Tbe shiftless beggar hears of illf the worst. 
At pnee with dulneis and with hunger cnrsL 
And feels the tasteless breast equestrian firen ? 
And dwells such mighty rage in graver %qaii«n } 

In all attempts, but lor their country, bold^ 
Britain, thy conscript couwelkna behold; 
(For aome, perhaps, by fortune fevour'd yet. 
May gain a bprongb, from a lucky bet,) 
Smit with the love of the lacooM boot. 
The cap, and wig succinct, the silken nat^ 
Mere modem Phaetons, usurp the rein. 
And scour in rival race the tempting plain. 
See, side by side, his jockey and sir John 
Discuss th' important point— of ilfaL to one. 



41. 



Cltvaeao. 



See Don Qohrate, B. IL Ch^^ 



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PROLOGUE. 



Ifl 



For oh ! tke boMtod prifOcgelMW dMTt 
Hov gremt tlie pride, to gun ^jodkgfu car ! 
te, like a rooted hoA, wifli hfadlonf pace, 
nf memben poor aorid tbe mbgliiig raoa! 
AU ask, what croardt the tnmiilt ooaU produce 
It Bedlam or the commooi all broke loooe ? 
Their way nor roaadn guides, nor cautiOD cheeks, 
Pread ooa bigfa-brad thing to risqoe their necks. 
Tby s^cB hear, amid th* admiring crowd, 
Adjodge the stakes, most eloquently loud : 
Vrkh critic skill o'er dubious bets preside, 
Tbe low dispute, or kindle, or decide: 
All empiy wisdom, and >udfeious prate, 
or dietnac'd horses gravely fix the fiste : 
And with paternal care unwearied watch 
<y«r ttie nice conduct of a daring match. 

Meantime, no more the mimic patriots rise. 
To guard Britannia's honour, warm and wise : 
No more m senates dare assert her laws, 
Kor poor the bold debate in fineedom's canse : 
Ifcglect the counsels of a sinking land. 
And know no rostrum, but Newmarkef s stand* 

Is this the band of ctril chieft design'd 
On England's weal to fix the pondering mind f 
Who, while their country^ rights are set to sale. 
Quit Europe's balance lor the jockey's scale. 
O flay, when least their sapient schemes are erost, 
Or irtien a natkm or a match is lost ? 
Who dams and strss with more exactness trace, 
ThnB of Aeir country's kings the sacred race : 
Tlmk London journeys are the wont of ills ; 
Snbocribe to articles, instead of bills : 
S t iMig e is to all our annalists relate, 
TImis are the memoirs of the equestrian state : 
WIks lost to Albion's past and present riews, 
Heber «, thy chronicles alone peruse. 

Go on, brave youths, till iu some future age 
Whips shall become the senatorial badge ; 
Till R^gland see her thronging senators 
Moet all at Westminster, in Idiots 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 would a rirtaous Hoohnhym neigh disdain, 
To noe hia brethren brook th' imperious rein ; 
Bear darery's wanton whip, or galling goad. 
Smoke thro' the glcl«, or trace the destin'd road ; 
And* robl>'d of manhood by tbe murderous knife, 
Sastain each sovdid toil of senrile lifis. 
Yet oh ! what rage wonfd touch his generous mind, 
To wee Ms sons of more than human kind-; 
A kisMi, with each exalted rirtiie blest, 
Bacti gentler feeiiag of tbe liberal breast, 
Afi»«l direfsion to that monster base, 
Thnek meanest spawn of man's half-monkey race ; 
In wfcostt pride, avarice, ignorance^ conspire, 
Thnft hated animal, a Yahoo 'squire. 

Htfw are the Tberons of these modern days [bays ; 
ChnaigM horn those chiefs who toU'd for Grecian 
Who^ firM with genaine glory's sacred lust, 
WhiaM the swift axle through the Pythian dust I 
Tbaifs was the Pisaa olive'a blooming spnj, 
TiMiffB was the Thabaa bard'to reoording hiy. [odds ? 
What HMUgh the grooms of Greeee ne*er teak tbe 
Tbey won no bets,— but tlMu they sonr'd to ^ods j 

of aa Bistorioal lA flt the Running 



And mon an irien>*s palm, a Pindar's ode. 
Than all th' united plates of George hestow'd« 

Greece I how 1 kuMlle at thy magic name, 
Feel all thy warmth, and catch the kindred fiame* 
Thy scenes sublime and awfbl riskms rise 
In ancient pride before nrjr musing eyes. 
Here Sparta's sons in mnte attentioo hang. 
While just Lycuigus pours the mild harangue ; 
Then Xerxes' hosts, all pale with deadly fear. 
Shrink at her fated hero's Hashing spear. 
Here hung with many a lyra of stiTer string. 
The laureate alleys Of Ilissns spring ; 
And lo, where rapt in beauty's beaTenly dream 
Hoar Pbito walks hk oUv'd Academe.-* 

Yet ah ! no mora the land of arts and arms 
Delights with wisdom, or withjrirtue wanns. 
Lol the stem Turk, with more than Vandal rage. 
Has blasted all the wreaths of ancient age: 
No mora her groves by Fancy's fiset ara trod. 
Each Attic grace has left the lov'd abode. 
Fali'n is fair Greece ! by Luxury's pleasing bane 
Sedne'd, she drags a barbarous foreign chain. 

Britannia, watch ! O trim thy whliering bays, 
Bemember thou hast rivali'd Gnsda's praise. 
Great nurse of works dirine ! Yet oh ! bewaro 
Lest thoo the fiite of Greece, my country, shar& 
Recall thy wonted worth with con s c i o us pride. 
Thou too hast seen a Solon io a Hyde j 
Hast bade tbhie Edwards and thine Henries rear 
With Spartan finrtitnde the British spear ; 
Alike hast seen thy sons deserte the meed 
Or of the moral or the martial deed* 



PROLOGUE 

OV THC 

OLD WINCHESTER PLAYHOUSE 

OVIR TBS SUTCaEa'S SaAMBLBS. 

Wbob'ie our stage examines, must excuse ^ 

The wondrous shifb of the dramatic Muse ; 
Then kindly lisien, while the prologue rambles 
From wit to beef, from Shakespeare to the sham- 
bles ! 
Divided only by one flight of staiis, 
The monarch swaggers, and tbe butcher sweats ! 
Quick the transition when tbe curtain drops, 
From meek Monimia's moans to mutton-chops ! 
While for Lothario's loss Larinia cries. 
Old women scold, and dealers d — n your eyes ! 
Here Juliet listens to the gjentle hirk, 
There in harsh chorus hungry boll-dogs bark. 
Cleaven and scymitars give blow for blow. 
And heroes bleed above, and sheep below ! 
While tragic thuoders shake the pit and box. 
Rebellows to the roar the staggering ox. 
Cow-horns and trumpets mix their martial tones. 
Kidneys and kings, mouthing and marrow-bones. 
Suet and sighs, blank verse aAd blood abound. 
And form a tragi-comedy around. 
With weeping lovers, dying calves complain, 
Confusion reigna-^-chaos is come again! 
Hither your steelyards, butchers, bring, to weigh 
The pound of flesh, Aotbonio's bond must pay * 
Hither your knives, ye Christians, clad in blue. 
Bring to be whetted by the mthless Jew t 



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1» 



WARTONS POEMS. 



Hard k olv 1M» VlM, wUom doon'd to «•!;» 

Cast a slieep*i.eje oo thit fotbiddoi mea^^ 
Gaze an lif krina, wbiehi ah ! wa caonol; carve, 
MA in tte mMst of iega of mnttOB c tarre ! 
But woald ycra to oar Ikni^ in oronds repair, 
Ye gen'row captaim. and ye bloominfr fair. 
The ftite of Tantafaa we ihonld not fear. 
Nor pinelbr a i«|Mft that ia io near. 
Monaroht no more would Mpperlefls remain, 
Kor pregnant fttoeaa Ibr cotlets Jong in Yaio. 



APANBOYRIC 

on 
O^OFORD ALB. 



»*■ ■ '>«Maa n^ Falemft 
1\eCttpttant Titai^ naque FMmiani 

Piocula oolleft iioa. 



(WIITTIK XK 1*748. PUBL18HBD IM 1*750.) 

Balm of my cares, sweet solace of my toils. 

Hail, juice benignant ! CVer the costly cnps 

Of rtot-stirring wine, nnwhoieaome draughty 

Let Pride's loose sons prolong the wasteful night ; 

My sober evening let the tankard Mess, 

With toast embrownM, and fragrant nutmeg fraught, 

l^liile the rich draught with oft-repeated whi^ 

Tobacco mild improves. Divine repast ! 

Where no crude surfeit, or intemperate joys 

Of lawless Bacchus reign ; but o*er my aoui 

A calm Lethean creeps ; m drowsy trance 

£ach thought subsides, and sweet oblivion wraps 

My peaceful brain, as if the leaden rod 

Of roagio Mdt^heus o^ mine eyes had shed 

Its opiate influence. What tho* sore ills 

Oppress, dire want of chill-dispelling coals 

Or cheerful candle, (save the makeweight's gleam 

Haply remaining) heart-rejoicing Ale 

Cheers the sad scene, and every want supplies. 

Meantime, not mindless of the daily task 
Of tutor sage, upon the learned leaves 
Of deep Smiglecius much I meditate ; 
While Ale inspires, and lends its kindred aid. 
The thought-perplexinff labour to pursue, 
Sw^ Helicon of logic T But if friends 
Ckmgeniai call me from the toilsome page. 
To p9t-hoa8e I repair, the sacred haunt. 
Where, Ale, thy votaries in full resort 
Hold rites nocturnal. In capacious chair 
Of monumental oak and antique mould. 
That long has stood the rage of conquering yean 
Inviolate, (nor in more ample chair 
Smokes roey Justice, when th* important cause. 
Whether of hen«-roost, or of mirthful rape. 
In all the majesty of paunch he tries) 
Studious of ease, and provident, I place 
My gladsome limbs ; while in reputed round 
Betums replenished the successive cup, 
£d the brak fire conspires to genial loy : 
While haply, to relieve the lin^ring Soon 
In bnoceafc deligfaty amusive putt 



On smooth joiot-stool in emblenatie play 
The vaan vieissitodes of fortmie shows. 
Nor reckoning, name trsmendona, me disturba. 
Nor, call'd for, obiUs my breastwitfa sudden fear ; 
While on th^ wonted door, expressive mark. 
The frequent penny sUnds described to view» 
In snowy characters and graceful row. — 

Hail, Ticking I surest guardian of distress I 
Beneath thy shelter^ pennyiesa > i qqaff 
The cheerful cup, nor bear with hopeless heart 
New ojrsten cry'd ; — 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 tl)e k>wly roof 
Of pot>hou8e snug to visit : wiser he^ 
The splendid tavern haunts, or ooffiee-hoose . 
Of James or Juggms, where the grateful breath 
Of loath'd tobooqo ne'er diffus'd iU balm ; 
But the lewd spendthrift, falsely deemed polite. 
While steams around the fragrant ludian bowl. 
Oft damns thjS vulgar soas of humbler Ale : 
In vain-*the praetor's voioe arreits their joys ; 
Just fhte of wanton pride and loose excess : 

Nor less by day deKghtful is thy draught, 
Atl-pow'rful Ale ! whose sorrownioothing sweets 
Oft. I repeat in vacant afternoon, 
>Vhen tatter'd stockings ask my mending hand 
Not unexperienced ; while the >edious tod 
Slides unregarded. Let the. tender swaia 
Each mom regale on nerve-relaxing tea, . 
Companion meet of languor-loving nymph : 
Be mine each morn with eager appetite 
And hunger undissemUed* to repair 
To friendly buttery ; there on smoaking crust 
And foammg Ale to banquet unrestrained. 
Material breakfast ! Thus in ancient 'days 
Our ancestors robust with liberal cnps . 
Usher*d the mom, unlike the squeamish soon 
Of modem times : nor ever had the might 
Of Britons breve decay'd, had thus they fed. 
With British Ale improving British worth. 

With Ale irriguous, nndismay'd I hear 
The frequent dun asG»nd my lo^ dome 
Importunate: whether the plaintive voice 
Of laundress shrill awake my startled ear i 
Or hariMsr spruce with supple look intrude ; 
Or taylor with obsequious bow advaooe ; 
Or groom invade me with defying front 
And stem demeanour, whose emaciate steeds 

1 In the Compamon to the Gnide, ^e. oar author 
thus humorously obmments on bis own poeoi ; 
" In this neighbourhood, a4ioining to the east end 
of Gariax church, are to be found the imperfect 
traoes of a place, properly dedicated to the Mooes, 
and described in onr smtutaft by the fismiliar b^ 
forbidding denoounotion of Pmn^Uu Bfnck* Bm- 
tory and tradition report, that many emineot poets 
have been 6#neA«r« here. To this «««< of the Muoos 
we are moat probably Uidebled for that oeiebrated 
poem, TW MendkL SkUUmg of Philips; micl that 
the aotlior of the I^meg^ <m Ottferd Alt was ao 
stranger to tids hapiring ivoeft, moy be foiriy ooa- 
ohided from these veeses, whont be additneo tbe 
god or goddem of Aekmg; 

** Beneath thy shelter^ pemuflm I qaaff 

ThocbeeiMclv.'* 



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PROGRESS OF XOSCOKTENT. 



123 



fWheae^ or Phoboi tboiie with kindlier beams. 
Or luckier ebance the borrowM boots siipply'd) 
Had putfd oft beneath my gorini^ rteei. 
la faia tber plead or threat : alUpow'rfol Ale 
Eicaiet new tapplies, and each descends 
Whh joyfesi pace, and debt-despairing loukt : 
Pea Spaeey with indignant brow retires, 
Keicest of dans ! and conqnerM quits the 6eld. 

Why did the gods such various bleasiogs pour 
On hapless mnitais, from' their grateful handk 
So ««Q the short-liv'd bounty to recall ?— 
Thai while, improvident of future ill, 
IqiiaiTthe lusi*ious tankard uncontroll'd. 
And tKoaghtless riot in unlicensM bliss ; 
SoMen (dire ftte uf all things .-xcellent I) 
Th' anpitying bursar's cross-afiixing hand 
Blaitj all my joys, and stops my glad career. 
Nor BOW the friendly pojt^house longer yields 
A nie retieat, when iHght o*ersbades the skies ; 
Nor Sheppard, barhart)us matron, longer gives 
Tb« wonted tnist, a^ Winter ticks no more. 

Thus Adam, exilM finom the beauteous scenes 
or Eden, gnev'd,>to more in fragrant bow'r 
Oo fruits dirine to feast, fresh shade and \-ale 
No more to visits or vine-mantled grot ; 
But all forioA, the dreary wilderness 
Aod anr^icmg solitudes to trace : 
Thin too the matchless bard '^, whose lay resounds 
The Splendid Shilling's praise, in nightly gloom 
OrioMsome garret, pin'd for cheerful Ale ; 
Whose steps in verse Miltonic I pursue. 
Mesa fellower : like him with honest love 
Of Ale divine inapir'd, and love of song. 
Bst kmg may bounteous Heav'n with watchful care 
Avert his hapless lot ! Enough for me 
That barning with congenial flame I dar'd 
Hit guiding stepa at distance tn pursue, «. 
And nog his favorite theme in kindred strains. ' 



PROGRESS OF DISCONTENT K 

(wBrrmi at ozpoas in thi tbas 1746.) 

Witii now mature m classic knowledge, 
IIk joylal youth is sent to college, 
Bii fiither comes, a vicar plain. 
At Oifefd bred — ro Anna's reign, 
Aod thus, in form of humble suitor, 
Boviog accosts a reverend tutor : 

U. Fhilipa. 

1 Tliis poem took its rise from an epigram, whiob 
esr poet wrote as scholar of Trinity College ; and 
which meeting with the approbation of the presi- 
te, Dr. Hoddesford, Warton at his request para- 
pktaMd in English. The English poem was first 
psUidied m the Student, in the year 1150, and 
iAenrards much altered and improved. The ori- 
ginsl Latin sketch will be fbona among his Latin 
pocoM. ** At the hazard of sin imputation of 
psrtialitr to ^he author (says Dr. Warton in his 
edition of Phpe, vol. ii. p. 30S^ I veaftuca to aay 
Ibst I picfcr a poem called Tk* Pn^w ^ Dtd- 
sMtaK, to any mutalioB <tf Swift that hat ever yet 



Sr, I*m a Glo^tanhlra dhrlae. 

And this my eldest son of nine ; 

My wife's ambition and my own 

Was that this child should wear a %qmn i 

ni warrant that his good bahavioor 

Will justify your future Ihvonr; 

And, for his parts» to tall the tnrtfat 

My son's a very forward j^oott^ j 

Has Horace all by heart^->yon*d wnnfteiu^ 

And mouths out Homer^ Qntk like tinmder. - 

If you'd examine-— and admit- him, 

A scholarship would nicely fit him; 

That he succeeds 'tis ten to one ; 

Yoar vote and interest, sir I"— ^s doaa^ 
Onr pupiPs hopes, tbo* twiea dafoattd, 

Are with a scholarship complated : 

A scholarship but half maintains, 

And college-rules are heavy ohaint ] 

In garret daik be smokes and puns, 

A prey to discipline and dnm ; 

And now, intent on new designi, 

Sighs for a fellowship aad fines. 
When nine foil tadioos winters put *, 

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 thhigs. 

We live indeed like petty kings : 

But who can bear to waste his whole aga 

Amid the dulness of a college. 
Debarred the common joys of lifo. 

And that prime bliss— a loving wifo I 

O ! what's a table richly spread, 
Without a woman at its head ! 

Would some snug benefice but foil, 
Ye feasts, ye dinners ! forewell all I 

To offices I'd bid adieu, 

Of dean, vice praes. — of bursar too; 

Come joys, that rural quiet yields, 

Come, tytbes, and house, and fruitful fields !*' 

T(H> fond of freedom and of ease 
A patron's vanity to please. 
Long time he watehes, and by stealth. 
Each frail incumbent*s doub^l health ; 
At length, aud m his fortieth year, 
A living drops — two hundred clear \ 
With breast elate beyond expresskw. 
He hurries down to take poasessioD, 
With rapture views the Mbaet retreat— 
" What a convenient hoosa i how neat * 
For fuel here's sufficient wood s 
Pray Gkxl the cellars may be good \ 
The garden — ^that must be new plann'd— 
Shall these old-foshion'd yew-trees stand } 
O'er yonder vacant plot shall rise 
The flow'ry sbrub of thousand dies.**^ 
Yon wall, that feels the ionthera my. 
Shall blush with ruddy fniitage gay : 
While thick beneath iti aspect intm 
O'er well-rang'd hives the bees shall swiraif 
From which, ere long, of gaidoa gleam 
Metheglin's luaekNik juica shall stream ; 
This awkward hut, o'ersrown with ivy. 
We'll alter to a modem piSvy : 



' The sdiolars of Trinity are supeia nnu ated, if 
they do not sncoeed to feUowshipi in nn 
after their electign to tobolaiihips. 



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Up joo gnetk Biopsy efliaieb trim* 
An aTenne to oool aod dim 
Shall to an harbour at the end. 
In spite of gMt, enttoe a friend. 
My predecfMor {ov'd ^anl&iM^^ 
Bat of a garden had no notion." 

Continoiag thn finitaaUc faioe on. 
He nov commences comit r y panon. 
To make.bit obanuler entm^ 
He w e da. a cmnm of the 'aqairej 
Not over weighty m the pniae^ 
Bat many doctora haTedone worse : 
And tho' she boasts no charms divine^ 
Yet she can canreaad make birch wiaew 
Thus fixt, oonteoi he taps his barrel » 
Exhorts his neighboun not to qaarrd ; 
Finds his church-wardens have disoeniing 
Both in good liqnor and good learning; 
With tythes his bams replete he sees, 
And chuckles o'er bis suiplioe fees ; 
Studies to find oat latent dnes, 
And rq^ates the state of pews ; 
Rides a sleek mare with porple housing. 
To share the monthly olub'k caroosing: 
Of Oxford pranks iacetioos tails, 
And — but on Sundasrs— fiean no bells ; 
Sends presents of hia choicest fruit, 
And prunes himself each sinless sboot; 
Plants caulifiow'Ti, and boasts to rear 
The earliest melons of the year ; 
Thinks alteration charming work is. 
Keeps Bantam cocks, and feeds his tnikies^ 
Builds in his copse a fiiv'rite bench. 
And stores the pond with carp and tench. — 

But ah I too soon his thoughtless breast 
By cares domestic is oppr^ t ; 
And a third butcher's bill, and brewing. 
Threaten inevitable ruin : 
For children fresh expenses yet. 
And Dicky now for school is fit. 
*' Why did I sell my coU^e lifo*' 
(He eries) " for benefice and wife? 
Return, ye days, when endless pleasur« 
I found in reading, or iii leisure ! 
When calm aronnd the common nwm 
I puiTd my daily pipe's perfume ! 
Rode for a stomach, and inspected. 
At annual bottlings, corks edected : 
And din*d untax'd, ontroabled, nnder 
The portrait of our pious founder I 
When nnpOBJtions were sopply'd 
To light my pipe-H>r sooth my pride- 
No cares were then for forward peas, 
A yearly-knging wife to please ; 
My thoughts no christ'oing dinnefs cmt. 
No children cryM for butterM toast • 
And er'ry night I went to bed, ' 
Without a modus in my head .c* 

OhI irifljog head, and fickle heart* 
Chagrin'd at whatsoe'er thou art; 
A dupe to follies yetnnlry'd, 
And sick of pleasnrea, scarce enjoyed ! 
Each prize possessM, thy transpcMt oeasA*; 
And m pursuit akme it pl«as0R 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



PHAETON, 

AND TttC 

ONE-HORSE CHAIR. 

At Blagrave*s » once upon a time. 

There stood a Phaeton sublime : 

Unsullied by the dusty njad 

Its wheels with recent crimson glowM; 

Its sides displayM a dazzling hoe. 

Its harness tight, its lining new : 

No scheme-enamour*d youth, I ween, 

Survey'd the gaily-deck'd machine, 

But fondly long'd to seize the reihs, 

And whirl o*cr Campsfield's « tempting pla^n 

Meantime it chanc'd, that hard at hand 

A One-Horse Chair had took its stand : 

When thus our vehicle begun 

To sneer tJie luckless Chaise and One. 

" How could my master place me hew 
Within thy vulgar atmosphere ? 
From classic rround pray shift thy station. 
Thou scorn of Oxford education !— 
Your homely make, believe me, man. 
Is quite upon the Gothic plan j 
And you, and all yoar clumsy kind. 
For lowest purposes designed : 
Fit only, with a one-^*d mare. 
To drag, for benefit of air, 
The country parson»s pregnant wife. 
Thou friend of dull domestic life ! 
Or, with his) maid and aunt, to school 
To carry Dicky on a stool : 
Or, haply, to some christening gay 

A brace of godmothers convey. 

Or, when West Saturday prepares 
For Ix>ndon tradesmen rest from cares, 
Tw thine io make them happy one day 
Companion of their genial Sunday ! 
Tis thine, o»er turnpikes newly made. 
When timely show'ri the dust have laid. 
To bear some alderman serene 
' To fragrant Hampstead^s sylvan s< 
Nor higher scarce thy merit rises 
Among the polished sons of Isis. 
Hir*d for a solitary crown. 
Canst thou to schemes invite the gown ? 
Go, tempt some prig, pretending taste. 
With hat wsm cock»d, and newly Uc»d. 
O'er mutton-chops, and scanty wine. 
At humble Dorehester to diae ! 
Meantime remember, lifeless drone ! 
I carry bucks and bloods akme. 
^ oh I whene'er the weather's friendly. 
What mn aJt Abingdon or Henley, 
But rtill my vast importance feels. 
And gladly greets my entering wheels ! 
And think, obedient to the thong. 
How yon gay street we smoke alomr : 
While all with envious wonder view 
The oomer tnm'd so quick and true.*' 
Tq che(± an upstart's empty pride, 
Thntsige the One-Hone Chair reply >d. 

• Bligrave, well known at Oifoid for lettinc out 
carriages, 176S. W. ^««i»wit 

*Intfi*fOftdloBlaiMBk FT, 



\ 



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ODE TO A OftBZLfi WtO. . • . • SOULOQUT. 



Its 



** Pray, vKen tlM<xiD8eqaeiiee ig weigfaM^ 
WfaKt*fe «n yoar spiiit and parade ? 
Fioai mifth to ^rief what sad tranaitioiiiy 
To broken bones and impositions ! 
Or if no bones are broke, what's wone, 
Yonr schemes make work for Olass and Nonise f -^ 
On vs pray spare yowur keen reproaches, ^ 

Fpom One-Horse Chatis men rise to Coaches ; 
If calm Discretion's stedfiiat hand 
With cautious skill the reins command. 
Pron ine fur Health*s fresh foootun springs, 
O^ me soft ftiugnesR spreads her wiogs : 
Aad Inoucenoe reflects her ray 
To gild my eahn seqoester'd way : 
Fco kings might qait their state to share 
Contnttncat aad a One-Horte Cbair.^- 
Wbnt though, o'er yonder echoing street 
Yonr rapid wlieeb resonnd so sweet; 
Shall Isis' teas thus rainiy prize 
A rattle of a larger size ^" 

Blncrave, who dnring the dispute 
Stood m a comer, snog and mute, 
Snpns»d, no doubt, in kifty rarst 
Tb hear bis carriages conterse. 
With solemn -ftce, o'er Oxford ale. 
To nse <fiactosM this wondrous tale : 
1 atraight dispatch'^] it to the Muse, 
Who trwJb'd H np for Jackson's news, 
And, what has oft been penn'd in prose, 
Added this moral at the close. 

•• Things may be oseftvl, tho* obscure ; 
The pace that's slow is often core : 
Wfaco empty pageantries we prize, 
W« raiae but dust to Mind our eyes. 
The g;olden mean can best bestow 
f^fytf for unsohstantial show." 



ODE 

TO A 

GKVSZhE WIG. 

m JL GCimBIIAII WBO AAD JUST LBfT OFF HIS BOS. 

Klu bail, ye curls, thai, rang'd in reverend row. 
With snowy pomp my conscious shoulders hide > 
TImt fiall beneath in venerable flow, 
^wtA crown my brows above with feathery pride ! 
H^ls on yonr summit, Wisdom's mimick'd air 
Sits ihfon'd, with Pedantry her solemn sire^ 
And is> her net of awe-diffusing bair 
EBtsagles fools, and bids the crowd admire. 
O'er civety fock, that floats in foil display. 
Sage IgiDorance her gloom scholastic throws ; 
And ntnmps o'er all my visage owe so gay, 
Vnnieaning Oravity^ seiena repose. ' 
On tbus huge wigs our reverence engage ? 
Have baibers thus the pow^ to blind our eyes ? 
Is aciesioe thus eonferrM on eveiy sage. 
By Bttylbs, Blenkinsop, and lofty Wise i ? 
Bat tison, forswell^ my Bob ! wh«e thin-wove thatch 
Was mor'd #itb qoips and crankt, and wanton wiles, 
llmt lofie to lira within the one-currd scratch. 
With Pan»^iil all the fiunily of Smiles. 



linOdM. 

t pcnkic*Bi«lMn in Oxford, W, 



Safe in thy prirniege, neat Isis' brook,' 
Whole afternoons at Wolvercote I quaiTd ; 
At eve my careless round in High-street took. 
And cail'd at Jolly's for the casual draaghb 
No more the wherry foels my stroke' so true ; 
At skittles, in a Grbszle, can I play } 
Woodstock, foreweil 1 and* Wall ingford, adieu ! 
Whfere.many a scheme reliev'd the lingering day. 
Such were the joys that ouce Hilario crown'd. 
Ere grave Preferment came bay peace to rob ; 
Such are the less ambitious pleasures found 
Beneath tbe.liccat of an hatnble Bob. 



CASTLE BARBER'S SOULO$VY* 

{WRITrKU IN THB LATH WAR* 

I wtfo with siKh success — alas? till 
The war came on^-bave shaf d the Caittle i 
Who by the nose, with hand unshaken. 
The boldest h^oes oft have taken ; 
In humble strain am 'doom'd to mourn 
My fortune cl^ng*d, and state forlorn ! 
My soap scarce' ventures into froth. 
My razors rust in idle' sloth 1 ' 
Wisdom ' ! to you my verse appeals; 
You share the griefe your barber feels: 
Scarce comes a student once a whole age. 
To stock yonr desolated college. 
Our trade bow ill an army suits ! ' 
This comes of picking op recruits. 
Lost is the robber's occupation^ 
No robbing thrives — but of the nation : 
For hardy necks do rope is twisted. 
And e'en the hangman's self is listed.— 
Thy publishers, O mighty Jackson ! 
With scarce a scanty coat their backs on. 
Warning to youth no longer teach. 
Nor live upon a dying speech. ' 
In cassoc clad, for want of breeches. 
No more the Outle-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 QimpsfleM's plain ; 
Destin'd at home, in peaceful state. 
By me fresh-shav'd, to meet their fete ! 

Regard, yb justices of peace I " " «" 

The Castle-barber's piteous case : 
And kindly make some snug addition. 
To better bis distrest conditioo. 
Not that I mean, by such expressions, ' 
To shave your worships at tba sessions I ' 
Oc would, with vain presumption big* 
Aspire to comb the judge^s wig : 
Far less ambitious thoughts are mind| 
Far humbler hopes my views conflne<^ 
Then think not that I ask amiss; 
My sicnaH request is only this, 
That I, by leave of Leigh or Pardo^ 
May, with the CasUe-^ndiave Bocardo *. 

1 The governor qf Oxford castle. Wi 
It The nama of a priwn bi Qatford. 



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Vi9 

niuf, as at Jefw oft !'?« keavd, 

Roogh sarviton in Wales prefenrM, 
- Tbe JpMses, Morgaos, and Aj^Rjoes, 
Keep fid<U^ with their benefices. 



WARTQKV POEMS, 



OXFORD NEWSMAN'S VERSES. 

FOR THE YEAR 1760. 

TfltiiK of the palms, my masters dear ! 
Tbaixnnrn this memonble year I 
Gome fill the glass, ny haaita of gold. 
To Bntaio's heroes brisk and bold ; 
While into riiyme I strive to turn all 
The fiun*d events of many a journal. 

Fraade fseds bar sons oo meagre soup, 
'^Twas hence they lost their Guadaloup : 
What thO* they dress so fine and ja'nty ? 
They could not keep Marigalaote. 
Their IbrtS in Afiric could not rq>el 
The thunder of undaunted Keppel : 
Brave commodoi^e ! bow we adore ye 
For giving us jwccess at Ooree. 
Ticonderago, and Niagara, 
Make each tirue Briton singO rare n ! 
I trust the taking of Crown-'Point 
Has put Ftench courage out of joiat. 
Gan we forget the timely check 
WoUe gave the scoundrels at Quebec i ?— > 
That name has stopp'd my glad career,— 
Your fiuthful newsman drops a tear I — 

But other triumphs still remain. 
And rouse to glee mj rhymes again. 

On Mindeo*s plains, ye meek mouaseen I 
Remember Kingdey's grenadiers 
You vainly thought to baUarag us 
With your fine squadron off cape tagos ; 
But when Boscawen came. La Clue * 
Shee^'d off, and louk'd confounded blue. 
Conflans ', all oowaidice and pufii 
Hop'd to demolish hardy Duff; 
But soon unlook'd-for guns o'eraw'd hiqi, 
Hawke darted forth, and nobly claw'd him. 
And now thdir vaunted Formidable 
lies captive to a British cable. 
. Would you demand the glorious cause 
Whence Britain every trophy draws } 
You need not puzsle long your wit j«- 
Fame, firomlier trumpet, answers-— PltL 



FOR THE YEAR 1761. 

Dismal the news, which Jaduon% yeufy bard 
Bach circling Christmas briiigs,-— *' The times ai« 

harf !»' 
There was a time when Oranby's grenadien . 
Trimm'd the lacM jackets of the Fkcnoh mooneers; 

1 Before this place foil the bf«v« Wolfe j yet with 
the satisfoctkyn of flist hearing that bis troops w«re 
victorious. The other places here 
conquests of the preceding year. Jf^. 

^ The Frsach admiral. fV. 

^AnoUierneQChadmM. IT. 



When efuiy wmk pvodwo'd soMe lucky hit. 
And all our paragraphs were plann'd by Pitt. 
We newsmen drank-*as Englaad's heroes ^ght. 
While every victory procur'd — a pot. 
Abroad, we conqnerM France and hiimUed Spain | 
At home, rich harvests crown'd the laughing plain. 
Then ran in nooiberBfree the newsman's vm-s«s. 
Blithe wera our hearts, and fall our Jeatheni purses. 
But now, no piore the stream of plenty flowa. 
No more new coaquests warm tiie newsman*» nose. 
Our shattered cottages admit the rain. 
Our infants strstch their hands for bread in vain. 
All hope is fled, our families are undone;' 
Provisions all aro carry'd up to London ; 
Our copious granaries distillers thin, 
Who raise our bread — but do not cheapen gia. 
Th* effects of esportatioo still we rue ; 
I wish th' exporters wece exported too ! 
In every pot-house is unpaid our score; 
And generous captain Jolly tioks no mora I 
Yet still in store some hajyiness temaina» 
Some triumphs that may grace these annual y«Tainffr 
Misfortunes past no longer I repeat- 
George has declared— that we again shall ealu 
Sweet Willhelminy, spite of wind and tide. 
Of Denmark's monaroh shines the blooming t>ride: 
She*sgone! but there's another in her stead. 
For of a princess Charlotte's brought to bed &«-> 
Ob, cott'd I but have had one single sup^ 
One single sniff, at Cbarlotte's o^udle-cup 1 
I hear— God bless ib^*tis a charming girl. 
So here's her health in half a pint of purL 
But much I foar, this ihyme-eahausted soo^ 
Has kept you from your Christmas cheer too Iod& 
Our poor eodeavoms view with gracious egn9» 
And bake these lines beneath a Christmas-pie ! 



FOR THE YEAR 1768. 

Still shall the newsman's annnal rhymes 

Complam of taxes and the times ^ 

Each year our copies shall we make on 

Tlie price of butter, broad, and bacon f 

Forbid it, all ye pow'rs of verse ! 

A happier su^ect 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 pudding. 

Though late, electioneering comes I— » 

Strike up, ye trumpets, and ye drums ; 

At length we change our wonted note. 

And fiMst, all whiter, on a vole 

Sure canvassmg was never hotter! 

But whether Faroooit, Nares, or Cotter \ 

At this grand crisis wiU sooeeed. 

We fireonen have not yet decreed.— 

Methmks, with mirth your sides are shakii^p 

To hear us talk of member-makiog I 

Yet know, that we direct the state ; 

On us depends the nation*s fate.-— 

What though some doctor's cast-off wig 

O'ershades tny pate, not worth a fig ; 

My whole apparel in decay ; 

My beard unshav'd— on new-year's dj^; 

iCandidAteiforlteeityorOifM. IK 



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POEMATA HEXAUKTRA. 



l«7 



A fmoMn, newMian, Md elector ) 
ThitN«h coM, end all unriiod, ray torn ;— 
My brevClbr Briteb^s Iteedoai glove t— 
Tboogfa Uini'd, by poverty, my ooefc, 
tt neVr WBS turn'd ta ghre a vote. 

Meentime, bove'er impro^d our iete it 
Ry jpivial evpff, «ecb evenipf, graAi^; 
Fofget not, 'midst yoor Christmas cheer. 
The customs of the coming year : — 
In nnswer to this abort epistle* 
Yoor Unkard seed, to wet our whistlet 



iOlt TH£ YVAA 1170. 

As nan petitions are in fiishion 
With the first patriots of the natioD ; 
In spirit high, io pocket low. 
We patriots of the Butcber-ro«r, 
Tbtts, like oor betters, ask redress 
For high and mighty grievances, 
RmI, tbo''penn'd in rhyme, as thOee 
Wbicb oft our Journal gives in prose :— 

«■ Ye niral 'squires, so plump and sleek, 
Wlfto 9bidy--rJackfion, once a week i 
Wbile now your hospitable boarrl 
Witb cold sirlom is amply stor'd. 
And old October, nutmeg'd nice, 
Sessd ns a tankard and a slice ! 
Ye country parsons, stand our friends, 
Wbile now the driving sleet descends I • 
Gire nt your antiquated canes. 
To belp ns through the miry lanes ; 
Or with a rusty grizzle wig 
This Chfistoias ddgo onr pates to rig. 
Ye isoble gem'men of the gown, 
View not onr verses with a frown! 
But, in return for quick dispaic)ies, 
Ittwite us to yoor buttery-hatches ! 
Y«; too, whose houses are so handy, 
For coflee, tea, rum, wme, and brandy ; 
Pride of frh- Oxford's gawdy streeU, 
Yoo too oor strain submissive greets ! 
Hear Horseman, Spindlow, King, and Harper > t 
The vpeather sure was never sharper : — 
Matron of matrons, Martha Baggs ! 
Draiin yoor poor newsman clad in rags ! 
Dire roischiefii folks above are brewing, 
Tbe nation's— and the newsman's ruin ;— 
■Tin yonrs oor sorrows to remove ; 
Asid if thus generous ye prove, 
I^ firicnds so good we're bound to play 
Till — oat returns a new-year's day !'* 
•« Oiv'o at our melancholy cavern, 
Tbe cellar of the Shea's Head tavern" 



Tbe governor of BtlenoaAyna 

Shall dearly pay for his vagaries ; 

For whether North, or wheliher Chatham, 

Shall nile the ronst, we must bava-at^em : 

Galloons— Havannah— -Porto Bello, — 

^n king, will make the nation meUow :— 

Our late trite themes we view with scom» 

Bellas the bold, and parson Home : 

Nor more, throng^ many a tedious winter. 

The trinmpha of the patriot sqointer> 

The ins and oats, with cant eternal. 

Shall crowd eaoh c<rfamn of onr JonmaL— • 

After a dreary season pait. 

Our tarn to live is come at bsl : 

Gen'rals, and admirals, and Jews, 

Contractoia, printers, men of news. 

All thrive by war, and line their pockels^ 

And leave the works of peace to Uockhaads. 

But stay, my Mnae, this hasty fitr— 
The war is not declar'd as yet : 
And we, though now so blithe we sing. 
May all be prasa'd to serve tiie King ! 
llierefotn, meantime, oor ma s ter s dear. 
Produce your hospitabie cheer : — 
While we, with much sincere delight, 
(Whether we publish news— or fi^> 
Like England's nndegenerate sods^ 
Will drink-— confhskm to the Dons 1 



FOR THE YEAR 1711. 
Dujtiovs newi—« war with Spain 1 
Hev laplBte fiici onr Christmas rtfain. 
BctorH, to strike eadi Briton's eyes» 



1 Keepeis of noted cofiee-honsei in Oxford* IT. 



POEMATA HEXAMETRA. 
MONS CATHARim/E \ 

PIOPI WINTOVUM. 

Ann Catharina jngi qui vertice sommo^ 
Danorum veteres fosses, immania oastim, 
Et circuDsdocti servat vestigia valli; 
Wiccaqiicss mos est pubi, celebrare patestrat 
Multiplices, passimque levi contendere lusn, 
Feste dies quoUes rediit, conoessaque rite 
Otia, purporeoque mbentes lumioe soles, 
Invitant, tetrice cures leaire MinervsB, 
Ubrorumque moras, et iuqua remittere penHu 

Ergo, CecropisD quales ssstate oohortes, 
Siquando ceras, nondumque tenacia linquunt 
Mella vagae, ludontqne fovis eiamina missa, 
Moz studio majore novos obitora labores; 
Egreditur pullatum agmen j camposque patentsa 
Oocupat, ingentisque tenet spatia aidua olivL 
Nee mora ; quisque suos mores, animumque foteri» 
Ingenhianque sequi, proprissque aocingier arti. 
Pan aciem instituunt, et justo utrinqoe phalanges 
Ordine, et adversse positis stent sortibns als. 
His datur, orbiculum metis prohibere propinqnis, 
PrsBcipitiqae levem per gramina mittera lapsn : 
Ast aliis, quorum pedib«is fiducia major, 
Ezcotsas a|itare vagas, cnrsnqne oitato 
Sectarl, et jam jam salienti insistere prssda ) 
Usque adeo sttmolat rapidus globus ire wquaeei 
Ancipiti de ooUe, piksque volubilis error. 
Impete seu valido elatum, et sCd>lime vo)antem 
Sospiciunt, pronosque inhiant ez,aere lapsus, 
Sorliti fortunam oculis ; manibusqoe paratis 
Ezpectant propioran, interdpinntqoe caduoom* 

1 Thb poem was lint edited m 1760, after Oray'ia 
Ods on EUnt Coliege, which was written hi 1748. 



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ISS 



WABtOirS POEMS* 



At pater Ichviiif viridaiilM» TalUbiu knii. 
Qui leficit salioes, subdncttt in mai^ine rifMB^ 
Pan vegetos nndant artus, et flumiwi Balta 
^lunms petnnt : jamque altenus placidaiii iotibns 

equor 
Id nQmenrm^ pediboBque secant, et remige plantA; 
Jamque ipao penitus meiguntur gargite, prono 
Corpore, spamantemque lacom snbvortioe torquent. 
Protinus emersit, nova gratia criniiNB odiB . 
Kascitur, atque ocolis 8ubit6 nioatacribos ignia 
Lstior, impubesque gensB fbrmoniis ardent 

Interea Itdlos eolles, atque otia June, 
nii indi^antes, ripSB uitenoris amore, 
LoDginquofi campos, et non sua rura capeftqnt. 
Sive illos (qute corda tolet mortalia passim) 
In vetitum menB prona nefes, et iniqua cnpido 
Sellicitet ; nDVitasre trahat dutcedine mtri 
Insuetoa tentare per avia pascua calles : 
Sen malint leeam obecaros captare recetSDi, 
Secreto faciles babituri in maigiae Muns : 
Qoicqnid erit, euna^paTitanti, oculisqoe retortiiy 
Fit fartiva via, et sukpectis passibus itar. 
Nee parvi stetitordinibai cesdaie, iocunxitte 
Deaeruisse datum, et lignis abiiase relictis. 

Qum lusu inoerto cernai gesttre Minores ; 
Usque adeo imiUbiles ammoe nu\'a gaudia lactant ! 
Se saltu exercent vario, et luctantur in berbft, 
InDOcnaive edunt pugnai, aut gramine moUi 
Otia agunt fusi, clivisque sub omnibus berent. 
Act aliquis tereti ductos in marmore gyros 
Suspidens, mirator inextrieabile teztnm ; 
Sive illic Lemurum populus sub nocte ehoreaa 
Plauserit exiguas, virideaqoe attriverit berbas; 
Sive olim pastor fidos descripserit'ignes, 
Verbaque difficili composta reliquerit orbe, 
Confusasque notas, impressaqut: cespite vota. 

At Juvenis, cui suqt meliores peetote sensus, 
Cui cordi rarom species, et dasdalus ordo, 
£t tumultum capit, et sublimi vertice solus, 
Qu» latft p^uere, oculos fert singula circum. 
Golle ex oppesito, ilaventi campus anstft 
Aureus, adversoque refulgent jugera sole : 
At procul obscuri fluctos, et rura remotis 
Indiciis, et disjunct^ jnga caemta Vects : 
Sob pedibfis, perfiisa uligine pascua duici, 
Et tenues rivi, elf sparsis froiidentia Tempe 
Arboribus, aaxoque rudi venerabile templum 
Apparet, medift rignaeconvaUisin uttibri. 
Turritum, a dextrft, patulis caput exttilit utmis 
Wiircamici domus alma cbori, notiasima Mmis : 
Kec procnl ampla sdes, et eodem Ista patrono, 
Ingens delobrum, ceutum sublime fencstris, 
Erigttnr, magnique micaift fastigia mole. 
Hinc atque bine extat vetus Urbs, olim iiiclyta bello, 
£t muri diijecti, et propognacnla Ia|)sa ; 
Infectique lArcs, Isvisqoe palatia ducta 
' Auspiciis. Nequeunt expleri corda tuendo, 
£t tacitam pennolcet imago plurima mentem« 

O felix Pnerorum aetas, lucesque beaUs ! 
Vobis dia quies animis, et tristia vobis 
Noodnm sollicitas subierunt tasdia vit» ! 
En ! vobis roseo ore sal us, cunsque fagaces, 
£t laeryme, siqoando, breves; dulcesque cacbinni, 
Et faciles, ultrd nati de pectore, risns ! 
O fortunati idmium 1 Si talia constent 
Oaudia jam poeris, Ichinum propter amoennm, 
Ab I sc4es ambire novas qus tanta cupido est, 
nm^kwiqiHe domumj et promiaias India undas ^ 



Ipsos ilia licH ftaoundo floniiie looai ' 
Pieridum foitunatoe, et opima vireta, 
Irriget, Iliaao par, aut PermessidoB amni, 
£t centum os^eodet sinuoso in margine tunas. 



SACELLUM COLL. SS. TRIN. OXON. 

INSTAtJRATUM, 

SVPPXTUS PBJBSXRTIIC COHPEXEKTa 

RAD. BATHURST, EJUSDEM COLL. PRJES. FT 
ECCLESI£ WfiLLENSIS D£CANO. 

Quo cuitu renovata det penetralia, triiti 
Dudum obducta situ, senioque horreotia loDigo, 
Sqnallorem exuerint veterem, turpesque teuebras ; 
Utque novam fiiciem, mutataque moenta txih 
Sampserit instaurata edes, specieqoe resui^gens 
Coeperit insuet& prl«cum splendescere fanum. 
Auspice Bathursto canimus : Tu, Diva, secumdani 
Da geniiim, et quales ipsi Koroana canenti 
Carmina, Nasonis facilem superantia venam, 
Bathursto anoueras, Latios concede lepores. 

Quippe ubi jam Graiis moles innixa colomnia 
Erigitur nitidas normam conlessa Coriotbi, 
Vitruviumque refisrt justissima fabrica verum ; 
Quaque, Hospes, vario mirabere cnlmina fuco 
Vivida, et omatos multo molimine muros, 
Olim cemere erat breviori limitc clausum 
Obecurumque adytnm ; dubiam cui rare fenestra 
Admisit lucem, rudibus sufTusa figuris ; 
Quale pater pietati olim sacr2irat avitas 
Popius, et rite antiqil& decoraverat arte : 
At veteres quondam quicuoque inslgniit aras 
Tandem extidctua bonos : rerum fbrtuna subinde 
Tot iulerattrevoluta vices, et, certior hostis, 
Paulatim quassata fatiscere fecerat setas 
Tecta mens; ^use nunc et Wrenni dsedala dextra, 
Et pietas Batb'ursti aequat puichcrrima ccelo. 

Veriim age, nee fiiciles, Hospes, piget omnia 
circum 
Ferre oculos. Adsis ; qualisque ereptiis ab aiwlis 
iEneas, Lybics postquam succcsiserat urbi, 
CoHstitit artlficumque mantis, openimque laborem 
Miratus, picioque in pariete nota per orbem 
Bella, sub ingcnti collustrans singula tempio ; 
Non minilis et donis opulcutum, et uumiue plenuDa 
Suspicc majori templum, nitidoque receptus 
Vestij[>ulo, quanti pateant spectacula toriii 
Contemplator, et opposituiu caelamine Septum 
Raro interfusum, quali perluccat arte ! 
Quels inflcxa modis, quo sit perftisa nitore 
Soulptilis, et nimiikm conspectu lubrica ccdnu ! 
At Cancellorum nou enarrabile textum, 
Autumni spoliis, et multd messe gravatum, 
Occupat in medio, et binas demittit in alas 
Porticus, et plexl prsefixis fronde columnii 
Utrinque incubuit, penetralique ostia fecit. 
Nee sua pro foribus desunt, spirantia sigua, 
Fida satellitia, atque aditum servantia tantnoi ;. 
Nonne vides fixes in coslum tollere vultiiSk 
Ingentesque Dei monitus baurire,'fideli 
Et calamo Christum victoris tiadere cbaitii } . 
Halat opus, Lebanique refcrt fragrautis odoven* 

Pergc mod5, utque acies amplectier omnia | 
Te mediis immitte choris, delubraqne caipt 



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POEMATA HEXAMEXRA. 



U9 



Interion inbiast; qnaeqae obvia suinere ceroU 

Paulisper fleso veaerans altaiia vultu, 

Siste gradum, atqye oculos refer ad fastigia summa. 

Illic divioufi vultus, ardeotiaque ora, 

Nvfbilis expressit calamus, ccBltimqiie reclusit 

In roeditj, domita jam morte, et victor, lesiis 

.Stbcnum moUtUi- iter, nebaltsque coruscls 

Instfte&s, repetit patrem, ioteriDissaqne scefvtra. 

AfDosco nidiis flagrantia tcmpora densis, 

Yulneraque ilia (nefas !) quae iis:iio maxima fixus 

Victima sustulerat fatali : iiiDubilus orther 

Itesuper, et pure vis deplait Barea lucis. 

At rario, per inane, dei comitatus, amictu 

OcIesBtes fbrmiB, fulgcntque iaslgnibus alis. 

Officio Credafl onine? trepidare iideli ; 

Pars seqoitur lung^, veiieraturque ora volantis. 

Pars aptare humeros Divo; et substemcre nnbes 

Purpureas, caroque oneri succedere gaudent 

CtTtatiiDy pariteiqiie jovant augentque triumphum. 

Nee toCum in tabul& est cuJmen : quiL ccerula 
clausit 
Extrema, atque ores picture xnuniit aunimj 
Protious hinc sesa speoies nitidissima reruni 
ITtnnqae explionit, csBOieiito duota seqoaci. 
Tall opifex &cileiii onassam disponere tracta 
Ga] laity argillae seoersens uvida fila 
Mobtlis, Qt nulias «oa tiat indnta figaras 
Is qmscunqua levis digitus diduoere vellet. 
Nee oonfusus hones operij $ecretaque rite 
Areolam sculpture •jam ^bi vindicat omnis. 
Prima ipsam nireo, pircuaiqiie supnque, tabe'ilam 
Prvtexit, sinuans aliema voJumioa, plaxu, 
Frtmdcaque intortos producit fimbria gyros.' 
Hmc atqoe hinc patulae pubescunt vimina pahme 
Mraees effusa comas, mtextaque pom is 
TiiT|:idulis. varioque referta umbracula foetu, 
Coi pleno inTideat stibnitens Copia oomu : 
Hac procuduntar floro^, pulcharrima serta, 
Qnalia vere novo peperit cultissimus bortus ; 
Qneis viz viva magis, oaeliusi'e effiD^ere t^'tt, ' 
Drxtera acu poUsns, caietbisque asnieta Minervse, 
Omnes ilia lic^t, qaet part u rit Enna, colores 
TesDperet, cxpediou variis discrimina fifo, 
Atqne aoio npsat dives snbtcmen et ostra 
At ne aciem deflecte, tnendi coitus amore. 
Afpicis, ut dianTaabes Mwoare coluoibam, 
Sappositis fecitqne opifeK allabier aris ? 
Haoc circum et Christi iatom referentia, nbvsd 
Instnimenta artis, magi^ue insigaia Lethi, 
Addidit; infamfls contort^ cuspide clavos, 
Saoguineas capitis spinas, crepitantia f1a«ra, 
Ipsam etiam, qus membra Dei morieotis, et ora 
Uen ! collapsa, Cracero, mundiqnc piacula gch>sit. 

At qui. marmorcis gradibus se inystica Uieus;^ 
SobH^it, et dives diVitii altare cnioris, 
En, <|09lia mAnim a tergo praecinxit am*cttis, 
CBdnooBque tnrt)es, advei^iqtie semitla Scpti 
Mato fiaa, pariteri^iie poteni;s conscia tomi. 
VensBft fp^ evade gradu.s, nee long'n!ks al)<ite0, 
Hain |iio piw e ocnto, eup*diqne indagine visd<, 
Aagtiari eap l mes diTinum opus Alciinedontis : 
Ve taqpRSlbraMe ftiginnt, et gratia Itgni 
r eautque tevts vestigia ferri 
J wMnisqae lepos tatereidat omnis. 
iMmi dabit in^las, arcanaque iila, 
lari * Retiaeiit quae vrqpula texti)el>uxumi 
Bl qfaaka eeUbeat suspend toreumata nodi ! 
BiBc alqae hiiic eresoit fbliomm pensilis umbra, 
Et partjta trahit pronas utrobiqne eorollas, 
Matariaqae riget baccis, et germina pandit: 

Vol- XVUL 



Quales e tereti dependent undique trunco 
Undantes hederse, et densis coma foeta coryxnbi/s. 
Inter opus penoatarum paria alma cherubiim * 
Ambrosios Uiceat criues, impubiaque ora. 
la suoimo veneranda calix, incisaque messis 
in spt9am induitur, turgentesque uva racemos 
RasUis explicnit, sacr» libamina o^enas. 
1 ale decus nunquam impressit candenti elephanto, 
Non Pario lopidi, non 6a?o DsaUalus auro, 
QuaUs faber buxo, gracilique in stipite lusit 

En vcr6, tumnlnm ingentem qu^ proxl ma clausit 
Testudo, prises effigies, et bnsta propinquis 
Non indigna aris ! Salve, sanctissime Popi ! 
Nunc i|ltro ad cineres ipsius et ossa parentis 
Adsumns: O salve! nequeenim, pater optime, credo, 
Elysias inter sedas, divosque repdstus, 
Et cum dileoto duceas dia otia Moro, 
Negiigis ukeriora pii monumenta laboris, 
Alterius momimenta man4s, et non tua dona« 
Alme Parens, salveto! Tuum est vestigia vulgi 
Quod fugiam : Tu das inopis crudelia vitae 
Taxlia solari, afflietis spes unlca rebus, 
Et sinis Aooidum viridantes ire per hoitos. 
To, pater, et fid4 tua facta reponere mente, 
Et memor assiduas tibi rit^ resolvere grates, 
Ora puer dubii signans intonsa juventa, 
Oonsneram, primis et tc venerabar ab annis. 
Nee vano augurio Sanctis cnnabula Musis 
H»c posuisti olim, nee spes frnstrata fefellit 
Magna animo meditantem, et prasmia iarga fa- 

rentem: 
Unde tot Aonii stant ordine tempora lauro 
Velati, deooqne scterne frondis Alumni. 
AUeni ramm reserans abstrasa senectus, 
Et UMrqnere sagax rationis lucida tela 
Omnia Chitvortbus, patriosque rechiaere ritus 
Seldenus solers, et magnificus Sheldonus, 
Et juga Oenfaamius monstrans ignota camenis : 
Tuque etiam, Bathiuste, potens et meute manuque 
Palladis exercere artes, unique tueri. 
Ergo tibi qnoties, Popi, solennia vo^ 
l£t6 rependamus, propriosqae novemns hanores, 
Tuque etiam.socias, Batburste, merebere landes, 
Dl visum decus, ct lauro cingere secundd.— ■ 
Nee t« sola Tnum, lic^t optima cura, facellum 
Occupat: en! propeplum facis,necdisparesamptu. 
Atria moltris ritu concinna receati, 
SummisFas propter sedes ; majoraqne mandas 
Ipsius incrementa domus, reficisque Penates. 

Sic ubi, non operosa adco primordia fassns, 
Romulus cxiguani muro concluscrat urbem, 
Per tenues prinio plaleas arx rara micare, 
Ipsaqiifi straminco constabat rcgia culmo ; 
At pof:tqnam Ant^nstus rentm successit habenis. 
Continue Parii lapidiscandcntia luce 
Tecta refulnere : ct CapitolJ immobile saxum 
Verticc marmorco stetit, et laquearibus auieis. 



ly OBITUM 

CELSISSIMI £T DhSIDERATISSIMI 

FREDERICI, PRINCIPIS WALLLE. 
(1751.) 

Sit, Guliehne, tuum mediUri Martia facta, 
Turbatasqne acies; sit fas osteodene la urns, 
Anglia qoas servata tibi, quas Gallia reddit 
DevicU, et partos hand uno ex host^ triumphos; 
K 



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130 



WARTON'S POEMS; 



Nee minor interea est BmnsvicI a atemmaie missii 
Gloria Prmcipibus, cognofcere munera pads 
Mitia, Pallac)iaiqiie domi mirarier artes, 
£t quos civil is docuit sapientia mores. 

Heu talis, Frederice, fujsti ! et Te aaoqQe,dignie, 
Principe pacifero, velabunt tempora frondes ; . 
£t Te magtia manent, quanquam baud operosa, 

tropaea: 
En tibi (regales qui non insignior alia 
Vestit palma comas) ut Isetos pandat honoiits. 
En tibi felicis qas copia crescat olivas ! 

Ergo utcnnque Tibi dispostas cernere tnrmas ^ 
Kon, Frederice, fuit cordi, atque in murmura Martis 
Hand placuit sublime armis fulgentibus ire ; . 
<iutn Te divmi correptnm runs amore 
In juga Clifdense miilt& frondentia fago, 
Sen Tharaeftin propter, dilecta per otia Keve 
Contallem in riguam. Muss, tua cuira, solebant 
2J>ucere Pierkles, solisque reconde resylvis. 
Nee tacitas inter reptasti inglorins umbras ; 
Qttin patriae placid! medttans in mente salutem, 
Quasrere coosueras, fuerit qugs regia virtus, 
Qux Mens, quique animiregem decu^re Britannuo^ 
Promisso inTigilans regno, sceptrisque fututis. 

Quaiis, qui Curibus parris et paupere terrd 
Missus erat Priuceps, sanctos sub nocte silenti 
Cesserat in locos ; aderat pia Diva ministrans 
Consilia iEgeria ; inciiltam queis legibus UTbem, 
Effrenos regeret qui ruUigione Quirites, 
Qui. doxtr& imperii rigidas torqueret habenas. 

Quid referam,ut studio pollens Fredericus in omni 
interea digito citharam calleret ebumam 
Artifici pulsare, ut suaves edere cantus, 
Queis lliamesis mediis stupefactus consUtit oDdis ? 
Haud fnistra ^eroum meliora exempla secutus. 
Quorum fema vetus per terras diditnr omnes : 
Kec fuit indignum iEacida, dum mcenia Trojas 
Insigiiis quateret clypeo, et cxiestibus armis^ 
Tffidia solliciti secum testudine belli 
Solari Aoni&, et duros mulcere labores. 
Nee Tu, Tbebcnue gentis fortissime doctor, 
Dedignatus eras divini munera cantib ; 
Leuctrensi quanquam devinctus tempora taoitk 

Quid memorem,Pb<ebi fuerant ut semper apudTe 
Munera, Lauri vis, et suave rubens hyacintbus ? 
O pater, O praesiens numen, Frtxlerice, poetis ; 
Ut tibi Calliope Permessi inspersa liquore 
Monstravit nemora, et formoss jugera Qrrhs : 
Ut cupidum Pindi immisit rorantibns antris, 
Antlquas felicem et laudis et artis alumnum ? 
Talibos Auspiciis et tanto Principe freturo. 
Quid miram est Tempestates mutabilis anni 
Thomsonum tarn jucundo cecioisse lepore, 
Horrida quid meditetur Hyems^quoc purpureumVer 
Gcnnina progeneret, quas frondes explicit JEstas, 
£t quantis Autumni exultet pampinus uvis ? 

O (quin ftita obstant! ) si nunc forct ipse superstesl 
MoniRci desiderio perculsus Amici, 
-Quam memori officio fudisset nobile carmen ; 
Quam Tibi Pierio decor&<:set fiincra fletu, 
Triste ministerium baud humili molitus honore ; 
Quam bene lecta Tibi studio, Fredcrice, fideli 
Ferret in exequias variarum donn rosanim, 
Et digna augustis inspergi serta sepulcbris ! 

Interea tenues tumulo qua», impare MusA, 
Mittimus inferias, non dnro refcpice vulto, 
Parce pio vati, et faveas levi<)r>bus ausis. 
Quin mibi snpremum hs sit dixisse, Valeto; 
O longum, Frederice, valeto ; O inclyte Princepi 



O valeas, frustra Angfiaci diadematis hasres I 
Nee san^ aooepit gravius, propiusye meduHiib 
Per festos tot retro, infelix Anglia vulnus ; 
Ex quo, Cressiaei media inter festa triumpbi, 
Atque Equitum antique socialia prandia ritu, 
Ante diem Edvardus cecidit, fluHantia latd 
Vexilla« et fuscis quas feceret acer in armis, 
Vinsoriae ostentant sedes, perque Atria looga 
RcgitieaB exulunt spoliis vlctribus aroes. 



EPIGRAMMATA. 



IS HORTO SCRIPTS 

Vos O qua sociis plicata ramis 
Ulmi bracbia panditis gemelte, 
Horti deliciae, decusque parvi I 
Dum vicina apium cobors per herbaa 
Fnigtantes medio strepit sub ttstu, 
Fratemis tueamini magistrum 
Vos sub fitmdibus, Attici leporis 
Auctores Latiive lectitantem ; 
Lustrantemve oculo lioentiort 
Colles oppositos, apnea mira, * 
Lat^ ondantibila obsitos ariitis, 
Tectoaque aeriifl tupeme iagis* 



EPITjiPHIUMK 

CoNJUZ cbam vale ! tibi Marital 
Hoc poDo memori manu aepulcmm ; 
At quales laerymas tibi repeDdam, 
Dum tristi reoolo, Susanna, corde, 
QvAm oonstans, animo naqiie impotente^ 
Tardi sustoleras acuta lethi. 
Me speotans placidis supremiilm ooeUis I 
Quod si pro mentis vel ipse flerem. 
Quo fletu tua te relicta proles. 
Proles parvula, ritd proKquetor, 
Custodem, sociam, dueem, parentem } 
At quorsum lacrymse ? Valeto raras 
Exemplum pietatis, O Susanna I 

> At Wynslade, tbe residence of hit brother. 

> Tbe sulject of this elegant and tnily claasical 
epigram was Susannah, first wife uf Peter Serie, esq^ 
of Little Testwood, in the parish of Eling, HaotL 
It is inscribed with some variations, in the parish- 
chuTch of Eling, on a plain marble tablet ; above 
which on a pedestal is a' female bust, and below tbe 
arms <£ Mr. Serle and his wife, by which she appean 
to have been of tbe family of sir* Stonbouse, 
bart of Berkshire, llie monmnent bean the name 
of Ml. Rysbrack. She died oo the 15th of Novem- 
ber, 1753, in the thirtieth year of her aga. Mr. 
Wartonin return for tfils epitaph raeeived aa ae- 
knowledgement from Mr. Serle of 50, or 100 
guineas. Maxt. 



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ORiECA ATQUE ANQUCA QUiEDAM LATINE REDDITA. 131 

^PUD HORTUM JUCVNDISSmUM OR£CA ATQUE ANGLICA 



WINTONI£. 

Si quAat gntia riYuli perranis, 
Bipas qui propeiat loquax per udas : 
S quit gramineo oitor \ ireto, 
Banrre in ipatiis quid est amoeni ; 
Aoft aoood, fruticam teDelluloram^ 
Bam Mciculis et hinc et inde 
yirondcBtiim, tenoes brereique sylvs, 
Faasank pondere dadali colons ; 
Qain, ti floribos, angulos per omnes. 
Quod dole^inis est sine arte sparsis ; 
Otna crebris salaberrimis et berbis; 
HiUBC, bospes, lepidum putabis bortum. 
At nee deiicue, licet suiives. 
Tales te potent diik teDere« 
Quia inirabere« qam micant utrinqne 
Tecta ingeotia, maumumque templum >» 
AatiqoiiiiiqQe larem decus eamenis >. 
Hac dam prospicias, jngi sacrati ' 
Sob olivo ancipiti, domus saperboB 
OlflB, fragmina vasta, diratasque 
Aroea; ah iiienor» hospes, esto, ut ipse^ 
Quae naac egregio Tides decoras 
C&lCii, et magnifleas, utrinqoe moles, 
MoK iiaiissii qoeaot parem niinam, 
£t misoo jaoeant sttuque plenae ; 
QnaiBTia utraque Wiccamus beatus 
Dici feoerit anzeritque somtiH^ 
Tcy Phcebi domns ahna ; teqoe templum, 
I ftirgere jumerit coluomisa 



INSOMNUM*. 

Sou m Tcniyet quaaqnam certissima mortis imago es, 
OoDMitem cupio te tamea esse tori ! 

Hae adfli, hand abiture cito: nam sic sine vita 
VHcre, quam soate est, sic sine morte mori. 



tUI FIT, MJECENAS, tUc <• 

Com Javenis nottras sobiit novus advena aedei, 

Oo a t ia uo Fopi prssmia magna petit : 
Dosade potens voti quiddam soblimius ambity 

Et socii lepidum mnnos inire capit .* 
At aociua maTult traosire ad mra sacerdoa ; 

Anidetqae uxor jam propriique lares : 
i^ ms tiaaamisso, vitam instaurare p riiirem ^ 

Aftqae ilenim Popi tecta subire jovat 
O peotos mire varium et mutabile ! cui son 

Qomqne petita placet, nulla poiita placet. 

1 The Cethedra). < The College. 

'8L Cftles's hill; at the fi)ot of which are the 
UBiaim of Wohesey Palace, formerly the magoifi- 
ccssfc lesMfnrr of the bishops of Winchester. 

« This ioaciiption is said to haTebeen intended to 
be placed under a statue of Somnus, hi the garden 
0# the late James Harris, esq. of Salisbury. It has 
been aaaibed to Mr. Warton, but on doubtful 
aolfaonty. 

* These are the original verses on which The Pro- 
I of Diseootettt was founded. 



QUADAM 
LATINE REDDITA. 

HOMER! HYMNUS AD PANA. ^ 

En 1 tibi, Pan, summi oolles, et maxima parent 
Culmina, pnecipitesque nivali vertice rupes. 
Tu pater, incedeos virgiilta per avia, mentem 
Oblectas lapsu fluviorum \enh cadeat(im. 
SIve errare velis per vasta cacuiriiDa, ouigni 
Unde procul patuSre greges, atque otia dia 
Pastorum ; capreasve agites indagine densA, 
Seu redeas sqaallens variarum caede ferarom. 
At simul ex alto subluxit vesper Olympo, 
Tale melos suavi diffundis arundine, quale 
Non, Philomela, focit, quoties frondentibus umbrik 
Abdita, vere novo, int^grat miserabile carmen. 
Gontinuo properant faciles in carmina N3rmpbae, 
Instaurantqne choros ; saltantibus adsooat Ecba 
In medio Deus ipse inflexos orbibus orbes 
Insequitur, quatiens maculosae tegmina lyncis : 
Sub pedibusque crocicrescunt,dulcesque hyacinthi, 
Floribus et variis viridis distioguitur herba. 
Intereik cecin£re Deilm primordia prisca : 
At primi^m dixdre, ut, DtvAm nuntius Hermes 
Venorit Arcadie fines, pecorisqae feraces 
Formosi campos, et prata recentia rivis. 
Qnk nunc illi arse, qa& stant Cyllenia templa. 
niic, divino lic^t ingens esset hoi\ore, 
Pavit oves, nam jussit amor ; votisque potitus 
Egregiam Dryopen in vincia jagalia daxit. 
Nascitur hinc proles visu miranda, bicomis 
Capripcs ; ipsa novo nutrix exterrita foetu 
Rekitit, hirsotiqae inPantem corporis horrens. 
At pater fexultans villosi pelle reviactum 
Bfuntani leporis puerum, fiilgentibus astris 
Intulit, et solium Jovis ad sublime locavit. 
Excipiunt plausu Super! ; subrisit laochus 
Purpureo vultu, et puerum Pan nomine dixit 



EX POEMATE 

DE VOLUPTATIBUS FACULTATIS 

IMAGINATRICIS >. 



-O Progenies pulcherrima csbU 



Quo tibi succorum tracta, calamique labore, 
pivinos ducam vultus, csslestiaque ora ? 
Unde legam qui. Diva, tuis certare colores 
Purporei possint, discrimina daedala fiici ? 
Ergo age, Musa, vago cursu per maxima mundi 
I spatia ; et quioquid formosi florida tellus, 
Quicquid habent maria, et caeli spirabile lumen, 
Delibes ; quicquid nitidum nature recondit 
Dives opom variarum, in amabiie, Musa, fideli 
Confer opus studio. Seu liberioribus alis 
Vin', comite Autumno, per fortunata volare 
Hesperidfim nemora, et dias Atlantidos oras, 
Dom quacunque Pater isecundo pollice lucum 
pelicem contingit, opacis gratia ramis 
pit nova, et auricomo fulslruot vimina foetu : 

1 The Pleasures of Imagination, B. i. vcr. 280. 



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Mf 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



Quicunque iocossit per ditia nm, rentdent 
Undique maturo subiti livore racemi ; 
Apricosque recens infectt purpura coUes, 
Quales occiduo nubes qiue sole coniscant. 
Sive errare veils, ri.srua convalle, per umbras 
Daphnes dilectas, Pen^ot gurgite leni 
Quk flnit, ostentatque refiexam e flumtne Tempe 
Purpuream ▼Itreo ; — ^Tetnpe ! qu^* iramina sylvis 
Nota olim, Fauni Nymphseque, per aurea prisoi 
Specula Saturni, secreto in raarj^ine ripac 
Frondiferae, socio ducebant Pane choreas 
MuUiplices. At saltantum vestigia propter, 
liorasque, 2^phyrosque almoB, udo imbre, videres 
Certatim ambrosios rores, et odorlfenim thus, 
Depluere^ Elysioque rubent quicunque colores. 



EX POEMATE VE 
BATIOSE SALUTIS CONSERVANDM K 

Ergo agite, O Nymphs, integros ostendite fontes; 
Egelidasque domos, rigui penetralia rcgni. 
Naiades aperite \ per avia tesqua vagari, 
Vobis nota, aveo : vMeor resonantia saxis 
Flumina prsruptift, scatebrosque audire reclitsas. 
Sanctd. perculsus mentem formidine, rupes 
Prospicio, quh vorticibus spumantibu5 amnes 
Insignes micudoe, antique carmine clari. 
Ante omoes, ingens, scopulis plangcntibris, exit 
Nilus ; at iratis properat violentior undis 
Hinc Padus ; tude jugis Euphrates Occano par 
Volvitur umbriferis, Orientcmque irrigat omnem. 
At secuni, so^voquc procul rcsupiuus in antro, 
Squallentcm Tanais difludit barbarus urnam. 
Quantis sub tenebris, quam vastis obruta silyis 
Undique, c4>ndQntur fluviornm exordia prima 
Nobilium ! Ergo animum permista horrore voluptas 
Percipit, et sacro correpunt ossa pavorc : 
£t magis, atque magis, dir& formidme circi^m 
Froodiferi borrescant luci, ramisque patescit 
Altius, et majori atrum nemus accubat umbr&. 
Dictt/e, num LemnrOm regio stat'finibus istis 
Abdita > qmraam hiec ignoti pomorria nMndi ? 
Qui populi ? Quaeve arva viris exercita } siqus 
Talia trans deserta supereinC arra colenda. 
O obi camporum tarn nigris faucibus antrum 
Porrigitur ! Tanto specns iile immanis hiatu 
Fertur in inforraem Phlogcthonta, an amocna virela 
Fortunatonmi nemornm ! per opaca locorum 
Ducite Tos, dubiosque pedes firmetis eunti : 
Munera restra cano ; nam jussit talia Paeon, 
Talia, diva Salus ; ct rersu pandcre conor, 
Quid lymphi liqnido flerivc potest elemento : 
Quo nihil utiHos mundi fert dtedala moles. 
Mirus quippe latex it mobjlis undique ; gt^lnmis 
Lutnme dat radiare vago ; dat qucrcubus alti& 
Sa^vas indignari hyemes, et temncre venlos; 
Dat scintillanti tenui»&iroa <:picii!a vino : 
Et vehit et gencrat'speciei alimenta cuVque, 
Et vitam, sou qua; spirabilis xtheris aari 
Vescitur, irriguisve virescit florida canipis. 

» The Art of PrcscfTing Health. B. il vcr. 352. 



piNDAki prmwmc. i 

IIISRONI JBTNMO SYKACVSIO CCRKO VKT. 

Testudo filis apta nitentibus, 
Quam i-iti servat Pieridum cborus» 
Tu cantilenam, tu sequaces 
Ec:regi& regis arte gressus ! 
Perculsa plectro leniler aureo 
Pronuni corusci fulminis impetum 
Tu sistis, stemasque flamms 
Prscipites moderaris ictus. 
Alis relapsis, fosa Jovis super 
Sceptro, volucris regia stemitur 
Sopore praedulci, carcntque 
Rostra minis, oculique flammis. 
Quin Mars reponens nspcra spicala. 
Post pulverem certamiuis ardui, 
Oblectat, O Pha-bea proles^ 
Corda tuo truculenta cantu* 
At quo.<i hcnigiio numine Jupiter 
Non vidit, ilios, carminis audiaut 
Siqnando divini levamcn, 

Horror agit pavidusque luctus.* 
Qualis Typhceus, sub barathfx) jaceus 
Imo, supremis iayiroba ceuticeps 
Quod bella Divis intulissct 
Hasmonio genitus sub antro. 
Quern nunc ligatum Cuma cubat super^ 
Pectusque setis comprimit horridum 
Columoa cscll, que perenoi 
Stat glacie, nivis JBtna nutrix : 
Et nunc proccllas evomit igneas, 
Fumosc^uc, mistro turbine, bellua 
Vuicdni, et horrcndum rubeseunt 
Nocte procul jaculata saxa : 
Iramane dictu pro«4ghim ! Mare 
Siquis propinquum transeat, ut l^hos- 
iEtriae sub antris illigetur, 
Difiicilique fremat cubili ! 
Hoc mc sotatum crimine fac, Pater, 
Cui paret JEtasd frondeus amblCus, 
Froiis fertiiis tulluris, ingens 
Urbs titulos ti\)it nnde magnos ; 
Qtak nuntiatum est quale Hiero ederet 
Certaroeii, acres victor agens aqflMSy 
Quantusque succussis, rotarum 
Atttler, institerit quadrigis *• 



EURiPmiS ANDRaMACHA, 

vsa. 102. 
AMiyiroiifAcne Loctrrnuit. 

Cum Paris, O Helena, te cclsa in Pergama duxit^ 

Et miser iUicitos jussit adirc toros. 
Hen ! non conjugii hcti florent'a dona, 

Quin socum Alecl6, Tisipbonem^ne, iulit 
lUius ob Furias, fidens Mars miile cariins 

Te circiim ruttlis, Troja, dedit facibua 1 
lllius ob Furias, cecidisti, care marite. 

Hector 1 Achillets'rapte, marite, racist 
Ipsa autem e thaiamis agor ad caiva littora pooti^ 

Servitii gravida nube adoperta caput. [que. 

Ah ! mihi que stillant Imnynm ! Tcojamqucy twruor- 

^ Ad AnUstr. U. 



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GR.tCA ATQUE ANOUCA QU£DAM LATISE REDDITA. ISS 



Fi fixdo (bsan in palrere Irnquo Tirum ! 
Qi :<i JQtat (iherius celi toavexa tiieri ? 

S\i:(fi IfenBMtio wHida serva feror : 
Et 'HKXilMcoaiplna fMdei, liqaefio, pereonis 

Quaiis piaeeipiti qac plait iioda jugu. 



MBLEJGRI EPITAPHWM 
IN l-XOREM. 

n AVmOLOCIA, LTB. III. CAP. xH. ZF. 22. 
BRVNCK. A}!AL. V. I. p. 30. 

Mrrro tibi lacryiiias^ O Heliodora, sub Orcum, 

In lerKbris loDgfe mitto tibi lacrymas. 
Aa tristes facrymas, libata in flebiJe bustum 

D Hesiderii dona, et ainoris habe ! 
Te cirtro, crebroqne, raeamque a lumine cassam 

IV0eo; quae Dtti gratia nalla Deo est. — 
'.bi iocandas mihi fliisculus ) abstulit Orcus. — 

Ftrtlarit vegetum pulvere gcnnen humus. 
Quirp, terra tuum est amplectier ossa repostx 

3IoliiUr, k, fido salva fovere &inu. 



ASTlPjtTRt TUESSALOyiC. 
IN TEMPERANTIAM. 

Ex AsTBOL. I. Ixxviii. J. Brdnck, II. 121. 

Hb aaiam Amifenes erabat 'VDcibtu olim 
.f.fi caai ti^lMret ila BUprecoa seoex : 

" Vir/o fonnoca, O dulcis oata, minister 
Vitx impis semper sit tibi cora colus. 

Mox CUB te aociarit Hymen, tua maxima dos sit, 
Te ctMM BMHtts oaatris babare probes." 



CAKPHYUBJE. 

Es AirraoL. HI. i. 6. Brvkck, II. 401. 

Mlui pwtario—. Viator, ttmaai, 
N oa «A qaad ImatymA viges sopultum ; 
>>'iii ail et nibi moituo dolendiua est 
Covjax noa mibt, foitque fida, 
Qni cam raannmi ; tiadique natos 
Ties is fnsdcia lauate wiptiamm ; 
£x qiieis, 4«pe «Mbi in siou tepenti, 
^^vi paens poeUulai^ae : 
Qai taadea\ iaferiia Ohhi rdafUf, 
Mtvrp aaibroflios patrem sopores 
lAvmitiM, Elysii vireake ripA. 



Bfia 



CALLIMACMi iN CBETHWA, 

Ei AiTTHOL. III. xti. 53. Brukcr, I. 474. 

I)octa est dttloe loqai, puellulasque 
later ladcse docta pervanust^ ; 
Tr, Crethi, Samise tuso reposcunt ; 
QJ3« pmilitate molIicelUL 
^•o«* bnifiei levare caias« 
At tn toida jaces ; trahisque samnos 
^>aaig deaiqae, Cretbi, domeiidos I 



INCKRTI 

IS cmo. 

Ex Antiiol. Cepral. No. 648. 

OUITTSD BY BKONCK. 

Eitr.o te nitida? doous palssiite, 
Tc iastum validas labore lucta* 
Et perfusa oleo videre membra. 
Nunc, Protarche, pater te;;it sepulchro, 
Coneestisque rccoudit ossa saxis ? 
Necdum filiolas modo peremptas 
Cessit cuia recens, novique lactus 
Acer funeris, O fidelis uxor, 
Td praerepti etiam parique fato. 
At postquam ferus Orcus liausit, et spes 
F.t solatia vos gravis scnectse, 
Huoc vobis lapidem memor reponit. 



LEOSW/E. 

15: Anthol. VI. xxiv. 2. Bruncx, I. 229. 

SuspENSAM e Platano Teleson tibi, Capripes O Pan, 

Pellem villof^se dat, pia dona, fera; ; 
Curvatamque caput, nodoso e stipite, clavam, 

Quae mod6 depulsi foida cruore lupi est; 
Conctetoquc aptum lacti mulctrale, et odoros 

Queis teuttit dausos, feirea TincJa, coues. 



TUMULVM ARCHILOCHL 

Ex Anthol. III. XXV. 20. Brunck, II. 167, 

H ic ebt Archilochns sitos. Veneno 
Primus novit amara Tiperino 
Qui coDtingere camioa ; et craore 
Permessi liquidas tiotavit undas. 
Testis, qui tribas orbas est puellis, 
Suspensis laqueo tmei, Lycambes. 
Tu cauto pede pneteri, viator, 
Crabones aliter ciebis, c^s 
Qui busto sibi eondid^re nidaoi. 



IN CICADAM. 
£x AiiTHOL. I. xxxlii. 22. Brunck, IIL 839, 

Cur me pastores foliorum abducitis umbHl, 

Me, quam deiectant roscida nira vagam > 
Me, quae nympbarum sum Musa, atque asthere sndo^ 

llinc recino umbrosis saltubus, iode jugis ? 
£n ! turdum et merulam, si prosde tanta cupido est, 

Quss late sulcos diripuere satos. 
Qua) I'astaot fruges, captare et fisllere fas est; 

BiAcida non adidis sofficit berba mihi. 



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134 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



ANTIPATRI THESSALONICENSIS. 

Ex AsrruoL. Csphal. No. 749. Erumck, II. 115. 

Tx, verso pn^rmntem hostili es agmine tergo, 

Trajedt ferro vindice mater atrox ; 
Te tua, quie peperit, mater : gladiumque recent! 

Spumantem pueri sanguine crebra rotans, 
Bentibus et graviter stridens, qualiique Lacaena, 

Igne retr6 torquens lumina glaoca fero, [Orcum 
** Linqne, ait, Eurotam : et n mors eat dura, sub 

Effttge: noD menses; non Lacedamonius.*' 



CALLIMACUI IN HERACLITUM. 

£x Amthol. IIL xxxiiL 37. Brunck, L 472. 

Te tristi mihi noper, Heraclite, 
Fato succubuisse nunciatum est ; 
Quo runiorc misellus impotentes 
Fui in iacrimubs statim coactus : 
Rccordabar enim, loquel& ut olim 
Biiici consueramus ambo lonf^os 
Suics follere, fabultsque crebris. 
Verum Tu, vctus hospes, O ubinam— 
Ah dudum — in cineres redacte dudum ! 
Nunc jaces, retus hospes, urbe Carilim \ 
Tuae Luscinis tamen supersunt j 
lUis, omnia qui nbi arrogarit, 
Haud Pluto iojiciet manus rapaccs. 



ADDITIONS TO WARTON'S POEMS. 



A SONG. 

IMITATZD nOM Tna MIDSVMMBR KIOBT*S DBBAM OF 
6HAKSPBARB, ACT II. SCEHB ▼. 

(From the Museum 1746.) 

Lo here, beneath this hallow'd shade 

Within a cowslip's blossom deep. 
The lovely queen of Elves is laid, 

May nougbt disturb her balmy sleep. 
Let not the snake or baleful toad 

Approach the silent mansion near. 
Or newt profiine the sweet abode. 

Or owl repeat her orgies here ! , 

No snail or worm shall hither come 

With noxious filth her bow'r to stain : 
Hence be the beetle^s sull«n hum. 

And spider's disembowel *d train. 
The love-lorn nightingale alunc 

Shall thro' Zitania'fi arbour stray, 

To sooth her sleep with melting moan, 

^And lull her with his sweetest lay. 



VERSES ON MISS COTES ». 

PIRST ^FUSLISHsn AMONTMOUSLV 111 1749. 

To trivial nymphs while Oxford's tasteless swains. 
With fond consent, address their trivial strains, 

• 1 Miss Cotes was the eldest daughter of Digby 
Cotes, publie orator, and principal ef Magdalen 
Hall; and Miss Wilmot the beautifiil daughter to 
Wilmot the bookseller, now a widow. 



That toasted still by ev*ry dghmg unait, 
Have claim'd undoubted rule o'er cv'ry heait| 
Still usher'd by a train of powder'd apaifcs. 
Queens of the Mall, and hackney*d in the p«te i 
^s ours to disR^^ard the public voioe. 
Where fiahion gives the sanction to the choice r ' 
'TIS ours thy beauties, lovely Cotes, to boast. 
Where matchless merit justifies the toast 
Let Wilmot's cheek be dack'd with brif^itar dyes. 
And keener glances beam from Boacber*s eyes ^ 
Let Wilmot boast the just harmonious grace. 
And all the feultless symmetry of fboe ; 
In these alone 'tis some distinguish'd part. 
Some favorite feature, that can charm the beaxt. 
'Tis not thy shape alone that strikes the sight. 
Nor melting eyes, with mildest azure bright ; 
'Tis not thy bosom, white as falling snows. 
Nor hair, that loose in golden ringlets flows 
(Though each onr am'rous hearts a beauty call). 
But the joint force and full result of all ; 
And thy fiiir form our raptur'd bosoms warma 
With all the graceful negligence of charms. 
Add, that 'tis thine in ev'ry step to please. 
Where dignity conspires with winning ease. 
With double arts you lure us into love. 
You shine like Veous — and like Venus move. 
Add, that the Graces give the taste refin'd. 
And deck with sweetest sentiments thy mind : 
Nor more thine hours the toilette's cares engag^e 
Than the soft raptures of the polish'd page. 

Blest are the sons of Maudlin's leanwd dome. 
Fast by whose seats the fair has fix'd her home ; 
On whom thine eyes their strongest inflnenoe beam. 
Thou lovely queen of Cberwell's silVer stream ! 
Yet, ah ! nnUest the sons of Maudlin's dome. 
Fast by whose seats the fsir has fix'd her home $ 
They fall a viettm to the neighboring dame. 
Nor Cberwell's streams can cool the raging ftaaie ; 
From thy bright eyes the stroke of fista receive. 
And for the beauteous Q)tes their Pallas leave. 

Meantime,wbileus the Fates have doom'd to pane. 
Remote, and absent from thy form divine. 
Thy charms transfix our bleeding hearts aUke, 
Reach though remote, and at a distance strike. 
In vain firom beauty's influence we retire. 
Thine eyes overtake us like the ligbtnrag*a fire. 

What though nor we the brisk chao^gne can 
boast. 
When, lovely Cotes, thy fav'rite name we toast ; 
Tliy fov'rite name, like Phcebus' rays divine. 
Imparts new flavour, and improves the wine. 
That, when thy beauties consecrate the glaaa. 
Our humble port for brisk champaigne may paaa. 

Meantime forgive the poet of thy praise. 
That fondly still prolongs his humble lays. 
Yet think not, fair-one, that ray lays detain 
(Though void of art) thoae killing eyes in vain ; 
Those killing eyes are here leas fotal found. 
For, while my lays they read, they ceaae to i 



VERSES ON MISS WILMOT. 

O'er Isis' bloommg banks, with busy care, 
I sought to find the most distinguish'd fair. 
To crop the softest flow'r, with eager fset 
I trac d each vale, and rovM o'erev^ fweet. 



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HIGH-STREET TRAGEDY. 



135 



While all anwnd wmamberM charms disclose. 
Pride of the bank, the beauteous Wilinot rose. 

Nut by vain ehanns, which vulgar beaudes boast, 
Wilinot asserts her title to the toast. 
The fight coquette attempts with little arts. 
Whene'er the Mall she treads, to gain our hearts ; 
Shefnmes a various train of winning wiles, 
Ciottrm each glance and disciplines her smiles ; 
Each dnteous curt'sy drops with studied care. 
Aid lifts her hoop with most inviting air ; 
Sbe learns to breathe the gentle am'rous sigh. 
And all the conduct of the rolling eye ; 
Nov kindly leers upon the parsing swain, 
\ow the coy look affects of cold disdain ; 
She learns th' alluring lisp, the graceful start. 
Each step, design, and ev*ry motion, art: 
Bat, ah ! how vain the soft deceit is found ! 
She gives no wounds, because she means to wound. 

lUit, When bright Wilmot*s faultless form is 
Moving in all the majesty of mien. 
How soon cclipe^d retires each light coquette ! 
How soon before her sun each star is set i 

Whatever inspir'd immortal Raphael's mind. 
In summer eve, on balmy banks reclin'd ; 
When g1ow*d his mind with images of grace, 
Stndioas a sea-bom Venus* form to trace; 
When all the goddess rush*d upon bis view, 
Frash frum the wave, and wet with ocean's dew ; 
Id Wilmot*s form with mingling charitas unite. 
And all that*s beauteous pours upon the sight 
Fresh as the primrose mead, or blushing rose, 
With native charms each gentle feature glows. 
But though the budding rose her cheeks adorn, 
Like that they wottnd--and bear a fiiital thorn. 
Her bee a miracle of beauty fills. 
Softness that wounds, and innocence that kills. 
If fiz'd OD earth her bashful eyes are found, 
Lo, Phoebus' rays descending strike the ground ! 

Hither, bright maid, a youthful breast to warm, 
With aspect mild incline thy lovely form ! 
Oh ! let me view those lips profuse of sweets, 
W'here softest beauty with persuasion sits ! 
Haste, let me weave a fragrant flow'ry crown. 
To bind thy flowing locks of glossy brown : 
Still let me gaze upon that breast divine. 
Where, in sweet union, all the graces join; 
Where each delight that foncy forms is seen. 
Without, all beauty, and all truth within ! 

While Witmot's charms my glowing thoughts 
engage. 
Adieu the midnight tamp, the painful page. 
Her charms each useful sentiment imj>art. 
And still refine as they improve the heart : 
For, more instructive are her beauteous looks. 
Than all the learned indolence of books. 
Tts her's alooe, with sweet prevailing ease, 
At once to teach and charm, in<«tru<*t and please. 

While thus thy poet, in unpolish'd vei-se. 
Dam all thy tempting graces to rehearse ; 
While in my strains thy blooming beauty lives. 
And, what the Muse denies, a Venus gives ; 
Queen of my song, O deign a kind regard. 
And crown with laurel-wreath thy humble bard ! 
Long have thy charms my captive heart detain'd. 
And long my soul in love's soft fetters chaio'd : 
Reward in kind letum these duteous lays. 
Or gife aie back my heart — or give the bays. 



THE MAIDEN*S BLOODY GARLAND. 

oa 

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 thnjot from ear to 
ear, was next morning 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 Goiddard, a hatter 
and hosier at the sign of the Golden Leg in 
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 ptfrt with his brother in this inge- 
nious imitation of the Newgate ditties.] 

TUHt — There were three pilgrimt^ 

A MOURNFUL ditty I will tell, 
Ye knew poor Sarah Holly well. 
Who at the Golden Leg did dwell. 

Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho ! 

She was in love, as some do say. 
Her sweet-heart made her go astray, 
And at the last 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, &a 
But oh ! the wretch's heart was hard. 
He to her cries gave no regard, 
*• Is this," says she, " my love's reward ?" * 
Heigh-ho, &c. 

" Oh ! woe is me ! I am betray'd ! 
Oh had I liv'd a spotless maid, 
I ne'er with sobs and sighs !(ad said 

Heigh ho, &c. 

" But now Pm press'd with grief and woe, 

And quiet ne'er again can know, 

God grant my soul to Heaveu may go, 

Heigh-ho, &e. 
'* For I my wretched <tays must end, 
Yet e*en for thee my pray'rs I'll send, 
I die to all the world a friend." 

Heigh-ho, &o. 
Tlien to her friends she bid adieu. 
And gave to each some tok(>n true, 
With, " Think 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." 

Hcigh-ho, &c. 
O then to madam Luff she said — 
*• To morrow mom come to my bed. 
And there you'll find mc quite stoni? dead." 

Heigh-ho, &c. 



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156 



WARTON'S POEMS. 



Too true she spoke, it did appear, 

Next moro they calPd, she could not hear : 

Her throat was cut from ear to ear. 

Heigh-ho, &C. 

No spark of life was in her shown, 

No brcaih they saw, nor heard a groan, 

Her precious soul was from her flown. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 

She was not as I once have seen 
Her trip in Martin -Gardens green. 
With apron starch'd and ruffles clean. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 

With bonnet trim'd, and flounced and all, 

Which they a dulcimer do call. 

And stockings white as snows that fall. 

Heigh-ho, kc 

Sut 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 fiutter'd Pease hath play'd. 
Were bloody, lifeless, cold and dead. 

' Heigh-ho, &c. 
The crowner and the jury came, 
To give their verdict on the same : 
They doomM her hapless corpse to shame. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 
At midnight, to the law doth say. 
They did her mangled limbs convey 
And bury in the king*8 highway. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 
No 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; ' 
Dkc dogs, she to her ^Tive was hied. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 
And then, your pity let it move. 
Oh pity her who died for love ! 
A stake they through her body drove. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 

It would have melted stones to see 
Such savageness arid cruelty 
Us'd to a maid of twenty-three. 

Heigh-ho, &c. 
Ye maidens, an example take. 
For Sarah Holly's wi«tched sake 
O never virtue's ways forsakr. 

Heigh-ho, Sic. 
Ye maidens all of Oxford town, 
O never yield \*nir chaste renown 
To velvet cap or tufled gown. 

Heii;!»-ho, 5tc. 
And when that they do love prctcud. 
No car imto their fables lend, 
But think on SaDy's di^smal end. 

Hcr^^fiho^ Iloi^^h-ho! 



I ' FIVE PASTORAL 

ECLOGUES: 

i TBR 8C£NSS OP WHICH ARE SUPPOSED TO LIB AMOXC 
THfi SHSPHEKOS, OPPRESSED BV THE WAR IN C£l^- 
! MAKT. 



Impius hsc tam culta novalia Miles habebit > 
Barbaras has segetes } £n quo discordia cives 
Perduxit miieros ! en queis coDSevimus agros ! 



PtEPACX. 

It is generally thought, that as Pastorals are a 
kind of poetry, which has been tottc|^M upon 
by sQCh a number of poets, that they are easily 
composed, and that their thoughts and sentitnents 
most be trite and Tulgar. However this opinion 
may be true in reason, I hope the fbtlowins^ 
pieces will be exempt from h*3 censure, as they 
are formed on a plan entirely new, and as their 
design is essentially distinguished from any pro- 
ductions of tlieir kind, either ancient or modem : 
unless it be that the first and ninth Bucolic of 
Virgil are in the same nature. How Xhh ideas 
of fields and woods, and a poetry whose rery es- 
sence is a rural life, will agree with the polite 
taste of the town, and of gentlemen who are 
more conversant in the fashionable ornaments of 
IHe, is a question : but I hope as they relate to 
that war, which is at present the* most general 
topic of conversation, this unpoliteness ^ill in 
some measure be excused. 

The learued reader will observe, that the author 
has endeavoured 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 hinds of poetry in genera.!. 
As to the design of this work, I hope it will not be 
thought odd, or ill-chosen. The opposing- iri« 
tercsts of a peaceful and rural life, and the ta- 
multuous scenes of war, together with the vari- 
ous struggles and passions arising from thence, 
seem by no means an improper field for the 
most elegant writer to exercise his genius in. 
How far the author of these pieces has succeeciea 
in tlie performance of this, is humbly submitted 
to the censure and judgment of the public 



ECLOGUE L 



LYCAS AND ALPHON. 



Arise, my Lycas : in yon' woody wilds 
: From a rough rock in deep enclosure hid 
! Of thickest oaks, a gushing fbuntain falls, 

And pours it's airy stream with torrent pure : 
\ Which late returning firom the field at eve 

I found, invited by it's dashing sound. 

As thro' the gloom it struck my passing ear. 

Thither I mean to drive our languid fiocte ; 

Fit place to cool thehr thirst in mid-<day hour. 

Due west it rises'from that blasted beech ; 

The way but short :— come, Lycas, rouse tby dog- - 

Let us be gone. « * 



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ECLOGUES. 



197 



LYCAf. 



Alas, my friend, of flock. 
Of <pnn;, or sbrpherd's lore, to me is vam 
T) tH! : my far'rite lamb, the solace dear 
(i'JKse prey locks, my sweet and sole deligtit, 
I ^catch'd by cruel fete ! an armed band 
On MJ?hing steeds elate, in wide array 
Traoipied the youngling, as the vale along 
M eve tbey passed, beneath.their whelming march. 

ALPBOW. 

5o*h thmng I heard, as in the neighb*ring wtX)d 
\ noder'd to rednce a straggling ewe 
Lrap'd the fold : what time the griesly owl 
H.T shrieks began, and at the wonted ehn 
Tbe GOVS awaiting stood Lucilla's hand. 
When straight with sudden fear alarm'd I start, 
MA iist*iiiDg to the distant-echoing steps 
Of Bneen horsemen with attentive ear, 
I «taiid aloof. But why this deep-felt grief? 
Yata neh loe these tears and black despair ? 



ilpboD, no more to Lycas now remains, 

Sisce he my last and latest care is lost ! 

TVn liiuw*8t my little flock ; three tender ewes 

WiTe all my mean ambition wish'd or songhL 

h D DOW nine days, and nine revolving nights 

Ax past, since these the Moldaw's raging flood 

^epi with their wattled cotes, as o'er its banks 

k rcHe redondant, swoln with beating rains, 

M deq> immersM beneath its whirling wave. 

I nk'd at early dawn, and to the field 

■ '-iid to pursue my wonted toil, 

Wten k) ! nor flocks, nor wattled cotes I saw ; 

^ .1 all that met my won^'ring eyes around, 

" » desolation sad. Here stateliest oaks 

7 CO from their roots, with broken branches lay 

• 1 LideoQS ruin : there the fields, that laugh'd 
"^rh. np'iiing com, of all their charms despoiPd, 
With oozy £ragmeats scattered waste and wild 
Weir seen. I curst the wicked spirit drear, 

rbt in the ruined abbey's darkest cell| 

TMt stands immur'd amid yon' lonesome pines) 

I b.uod iiith triple chains : his magic pow'r 

iift'tia)es with howling storms, and thunder load 

IkMua the night, and blackens nature^s face. 

H* trmpests sveird the Moldaw's rising streams, 

.'.£ 1 *has overwhelmed my flock. — But this wy heart 

Hid teaiu'd to bear, at length to oomfort^s voice 

!* ni obey'd, and all its woes forgot ^ 

V.' .to ah ! too soon returning woes invade 

V iiftast, just lisiug from its formor stroke- 

'' -"i this, the sole survivor, of my flock, 

' * •'«« his lost companions ; while a wretch 

■ ' rr remain, deserted and forlorn ! 

i.etoo had dyM beneath the whelminp; surge, 

•'vi n< the shelter of my low-roofl cot 

r^at £i<al night preserved him ; where at eve 

i ^'iy plac'd him with providing care, 

'^< ilic fell storm, which yet from southern clouds 

^ realea'd de^ruction, and to low'r began^ 

*' a^t vioiale his tender-blooming age. / 

ALPIIOlf. 

^'\ piteoos eye, and sympathizing heart, 

~3? tcare I view. — ^Tbese scenes of war aad blood, 

• " ^alm repose of ev*ry field invade ! 
Vj^If had M*n a victim to their rage, 



As in deep dead of night my cave beneath 
1 lay dissolvM hi sleep, with warning voice 
Had not my dog alarm'd with wood'ring ear. 
When straight approachM the cave a savage throng 
With barb'rons arms, and habit fleroe and wild. 
With stem demeanour and defring look 
Terriffic ; which the Moon's paie-glimm'ring rays 
Presented to my sight, as in the boughs. 
Close shrouded, of a neighb*ring pine I sal 
(Where sadden fear had driv'n me to evade 
Impending fate, unconscious and amaz'd) 
Secure, but trembling, and in chilly damps 
My limbs bedew*d. — ^Tbe monsters as they post. 
With dire eonfasKNi all the cavern fitf'd ; 
Huii*d to the groand my scrip, and beechen cop, 
Dispers'd the shaggy skins that form my bed. 
And o'er the trampled floor had scatter'd wide 
A hdird of choicest chesnuts, which I cull'd 
With nice-discerning care, and had design'd 
A present to my beauteous Rosaltnde. 
Alas ! with them her love had been obtain'dy 
And me to Myron she had then prefenr*d \ 



Shepherd, on thee has Fortune kindly smil'd ; 
'Tis mine to feel her grief-inflioting hand ! 
Alas I each olgect that I 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 shike his eager thiist ! 
And there the beech, beneath whose breecy shade 
He lov'd to lie, ckMe covert from the Son \ 
See yet the bark smooth-wom and bareiemainfy 
Where oft the youngling rubb'd his tender side ! 
Ah ! what availed my care, and foresight vain \ 
That day he fell oppressed by whelming steeds. 
Thi^ hand had built a bow'r of thickest bonghs 
Compos'd, 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 I 
But why this sad, repeated track of woe 
I still pursue ? Farewell, my Alphon dear. 
To distant fields, and pastures will I go. 
Where impious war, and discord, nnrse of bloody 
Shall ne'er profane the silence of the groves. 



ECLOGUE ir. 

ACIS AHD ALCYOH. 

ACIS. 

Wbilb m the bosom of tliis deep recess, 
The voice of war has lost its madding sboifts^ 
I^et us improve the transient hour of peace. 
And calm our troubled minds with mutual songs ; 
While this recess conspiring with the Muse 
Invites to peaceful tlioughts; this cavern deep. 
And these tall pines that nodding from the rock 
Wave o'er its mouth their umbrage black, and csA 
A venerable gloom, with this clear fount 
That cleaves the riven stone and fills the cave 
With hollow-tinkling sounds. Rqieat the song 
Which late, Alcyon, from thy mouth i heanl. 
As to the sprmg we drove our thirsting flocks j 
It tells the charms of grateful evening mild : 
Begin, Alcyon : Acis in return 
Shall sing the praises of the dawnmg mom. 



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WARTON'S POEMS. 



ALCYOV. 

fiehind the bilk whmi sinks the veitern lan. 
And imlling dewi breathe fragimoce thro* the air, 
Eefiresbing ev'ry field with coolness mild ; 
Then let me walk the twilight meadows green. 
Or breezy up-laads, near thick-branching elms, 
While the still landscape sooths my soul to rest. 
And er^ry care subsides to calmest peace : 
The mists slow-rising from the rivers dank. 
The W9ods scarce stirring at the whispering wind, 
The streaky clouds, that tinge their darkenM tops 
With russet hues, and fainter gleams of light, 
The solitude that all around becalms 
The peaceful #ir, conspire to wnp my soul 
In musings mild, and nought the solemn scene 
And the still silcHice breaks, but distant sounds 
Of bleating flocks, that to their destined fold 
The shepherd drives : mean-time the shriU-tan*d bell 
Of some lone ewe that wanders from the rest, 
Tlnckles far-off, with solitary sound j 
The lowing cows that wait the milker's hand. 
The oottaga mastiffs bark, the joyous shouto 
Of swains that meet to wrestle on the green. 
Are beard around. But ah I since rutbless war 
Has ravaged in these fields, so tranquil once. 
Too oft' alas the din of clashing arms 
And discord fell disturbs the softer scene ! 
Thy sweet approach delights the wearied ox. 
While in loose traces from the furrow'd iieki 
He comes ; thy dawn .the weary reaper loves. 
Who long had fiunted in the mid-day sun, 
Pleas*d with the cooler hour, along the vde 
Whistling he home returns to kiss his babes, 
With joyful heart, his labour's sweet reward I 
But ah 1 what sudden fears amaze his soul 
When, near approaching, all before he sees 
His lowly cottage and the village 'rotnd 
Swept into ruin by the hand of war, 
Dispersed his children, and his much-lov'd wife. 
No more to glad bis breast with home-felt joys ! 
I too, when in my wattled cotes are laid 
My supping flock, rejoice to meet my dear. 
My &ir Lauretta, at the wonted oak ; 
Or haply as her milking-pail she bears 
Returning from the field, to ease her arm, 
(Sweet o&ce ! ) and impart my aiding hsnd ! 
Thy charms (O beauteous Evening; !) shall be sung. 
As long as these tall pines shall wave tlieir heads. 
Or this clear fountain cleave the riven stone ! 

ACTS. 

Sweet are the dews of eve ; her fragrance sweet ; 
Sweet are the pine-topt hills at sultry noon ; 
Sweet is the shelter of the friendly grot 
To sheep, and shepherd, at impending storms ; 
But ah ? less sweet the fragrant dews 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 difiusive joy ! 
As to his flock the shepherd issues forth. 
Printing new footsteps m the dewy vale. 
Each object of the joyous scene around 
Vernal delight tnqiires, and glads his heart 
Unknowmg of the cause, with new-felt glee ! 
The chant of early birds on every bnsh. 
The steaming odbuiv of the fresh-blown flow'rs— 



Cease, Acis, cease thy song : — from yonder hid, 
Whose lofty sides enclose this secret seat. 
Our flocks, that graze along ju verd'rous broir, 
Tumultuous rush, as stnu^k with sudden fright : 
And hark, methinks I hear the deathfiil soundi 
Of war approaching, and its thunden* roar ! 



Kind Heav'n preserve Uy wife and children dear, 
Alas ! I fear the sound, that louder now 
Swells in the wind, and comes with fuller din, 
Is near my cottage; which, thou know'st, my friend, 
Stands at tbfi spring, that issues from beneath 
That rising hill, fiut by the branching elm I 



See, see, my friend, what dari(Some spires arise 
Of wreathing smoke, and blacken all the sky !— 
Nearer and nearer comes the threatening voice. 
And more distinguish'd strikes our trsmbliog ear ! 
But lo ! the foes advance above the hill ; 
I see their glitt'riog arms begin to gleam ! 
Come, let uh fly, nod in the deepest nook. 
The homost cavern of this winding grot. 
Close shroud ounelves, lest in the gen'nl stream 
Of thoosauds thronging down, we &11 oppresL 



ECLOGUE III. 

Wrbv sable midnight on the fields and woods 
Had spread her mantle dark, then wander'd forth 
The penaive Alcon, aud the bosom deep 
Of a wild wood with solitary steps, 
There to lament his wretched fate, he sought. 
Him, late as o'er the vale at coming eve 
Jdyfdl he walk'd with his Lucille dear, 
A soldier, stem-advancing on his steed, 
Robb'd of his love, and tore the beauteous maid 
With brutal hand from his contending arms, 
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 neij^hb'ring feet 
Long time untrod : for there in ancient days. 
Two knights of bold emprise, and high reno«n. 
Met in fierce combat, to dispute the prize 
Of beauty bright, whose valiant arm shou'd win 
A virgin fair, whose far-cmblazon'd charms 
With equal lot^e had smote their rival brea^^ts. 
The knight who fell Iieneath the victor's sword, 
Unhcars*d and restless, from that fatal day 
Wanders the hated shades, a spectre pale ; 
And each revolving night, are heard to sound, 
Far from the inmost bow'r of the deep wood. 
Loud shrieks, and hollow groans, and rattling: chains 
When the dark secrets of the grove he gained. 
Beneath an ancient oak his weary limbs 
He laid adown, and thus to plain began. 

*' This midnight deep to plaintive love accords ; 
This lonesome silence, and these hideous shades. 
That in this darksome hour I dare to tread. 
And all the horrours of this fearful place. 
Will suit a wretch abandoned to despair ! 
But bah! — what means this sudden feai 

that creeps 



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ECLOGUES. 



139 



IndiQly twesti, nfet all my treBUiftg limU ?— 

What bollow-wbii|>*riiig sounds are ihoie I bear, 

FroJD yonder glade ? do not l.bear his voice ? 

Doa Bot Uie kni^t, that ia these shades was slaio. 

Call Die to come, and heckoo with bis hand ? 

Do imt 1 see his visionary sword 

Wsv'd 10 bright circles thro* the muiky air ?— « 

Does not he point his wounds ?— he still my fears : 

Tn vain illusion all, and pbantasie. 

Tboe fean my JoTe-distempeHd brain suggests ; 

Alas, they will nut bring me back my love I — 

Who DOW, perhaps, amid the thronged camp 

Od earth's cold breast reclines her weary head, 

A helpless viigin, subject to the will 

Of each rude rmvisher, and distant hr 

From her dear Atcoo, and her native field*— 

III will the hardships of inclement skies 

Suit with her tender limbs ; the various toils 

Of painful marches ; her unwonted ean, 

How bear the trumpet, and the sounds of war ! 

This task is hard indeed — but soon, alas ! 

At will her savage lord may cast her off. 

And leave her to succeeding scenes of woe ; 

1 lee my dear Lucilla, once my own, 

Naked and hungr)>]^tread the pensive steps 

Of desolation, doom'd to wander o^er. 

Helpless and vagabond, the friendless Earth ! 

I hear her sigh fur Aloon and her home ; 

And ask ^ bread at some proud palace gate 

With unavailing voice ! This toilsome scene, 

Alas, bow different from the smoother paths 

Of rural life, my dear was wont to tread ! 

Forth to the field to bear the milking-pail 

Was all her wont ; to tread the tedded grass. 

To tend her father*s flock : beneath the oak 

To snatch her dinner sweet, and on the green 

With the companions of her age to sport ! 

Ia vain I now expect the coming on 

Of d4!w4iath'd eve, to meet my wonted love ; 

Ko more I hear the wood-girt vallies ring 

With her blytbe voice, that oft has blest mine ear, 

As in the distant shade I sate unseen ; 

Ko more I meet her at the wonted spring. 

Where each revolving noon she daily went 

To fin her pitcher with the crystal flood !— 

If in her native fields the band of death 

Had snatch'd her from my arms, I cou'd have borne 

The fetal shock with Icss-rcpining heart ; 

For then I could have had one parting kiss ; 

I cou'd have strewn her hearse vrith fairest flow'rs, 

And paid the last sad office to my dear ! — 

Return, my sweet Lucilla, to my arms ; 

At thy rctam, all nature will rejoice. 

Totcether will we walk the verdant vales. 

And mingle sweet discoune with kisses sweet 

Come, I will climb for thee the knotted oak. 

To rob the sloek-dove of his feathery young ; 

ni show thee where the softest cowslips spring. 

And dust'ring nuts their laden branches bend ; 

Together will we taste the dews of mom ; 

Together aeek the grotts at sultry noon ; 

T'jfiether from the field at eve return — 

What have I saki ? what painted scenes of bliss 

My vara imagination has display'd ! 

Alas, she*s gone, ah, never to return ! 

Farewell my past'ral pipe, and my dear flock; 

Farewell my faithful dog ; my bnce-lov'd haunts 

Farewell, or cave, or fbuntam, or fresh shade. 

Farewell; and tbooy my low-noft cot^ farewell !— 



Here will I lie, and fsllest wolves, that ro«m 
This savage forest, shall devour my Innbs, 
Unwept, unburied, in a place unknown !'' 



ECLOGUE IF. 

MTCOM Ann PBILAKTB£S. 



Welcomi, Pfaianthes, to thy native fields ; 
Thrice three revolving moons are gone and past, 
Smoe first yon parted from your father's cot. 
To drive to pastures Ihr remote youV flock. 
Since that, alas, how oft has savage war 
Disturbed our dwellings, and defac'd our fields ! 

raiLAjrrBss. 
Mycon, each olject that I view around. 
Speaks ruin and destruction. See, my firiend. 
The ancient wood, whose venerable shades 
So oft have sheltered us from noon-day suns ; 
So oft have echo'd to the lowing herds 
That fed wide-wandering io the neighboring vales. 
The soldier's ax has leveled with the ground. 
And to the Sun exposed its darksome bow'rs : 
The distant villages, and blue-topt bills, [eyes. 
The far-stretch'd meads appear, and meet mina 
That ent were intercepted by the grove. 

MTCOK. 

How is the wonted fsce of all things chaagM ! 

Those trees, by whose aspiring tops we knew 

The Sun's ascent at noon, unerring mark. 

No more are seen to tell the comifkg hour. 

How naked does the winding rill appear, 

Whose banks its pendant umbrage deep imbrown'd* 

And fiir invested with its arborous roof. 

As by its sides it roU'd its secret streams ; 

How oft, alas ! those shadowy banks aUmg 

(Close solitude !) my Rosalind and I 

Have walk*d in converse sweet, and link*d in lo^ ! 

But tell me, dear Philanthes, are (he fields. 

Which late you left, like ours by war opprest. 

Alike in tumult and confusion wrapt ? 

PBiLAirniBS. 
Mycon, Til tell thee wonders past belieC 
It hap^d one mom, when first the dawning Sun 
Began to chear the light-enliven*d Rarth, 
Caught with so bright a scene, I sought the fielda 
Before my wonted hour, and roving wide 
Among the vales, the villages and woods. 
Where'er my fency led, or pleasures call'd, 
I chanc'd upon a neighb'ring hill to stray. 
To view the glitf ring prospect fiXMn its top 
Of the broad Rhine, that roU'd his waves beneath. 
Amid the level of extended meads ; 
When ^ lo ! ere yet I gain'd its Wfty brow. 
The sound of dashing floods, and dashing arms, 
Ai}d neighing steeds, confusive struck mine ear. 
Studious to know what tumult was at hand. 
With step adven*trou8 I advanc'd, and gain'd 

1 It may be sup pea e d that in these lines the 
shepherd is giving an aoeomit of Prince Charlet't 
passing the Rhint* 



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WARTON'S POEMS. 



With tim'fom care and oaotMUi hta its top. 
Sodden a bant Of brigfatneiB imote my tight, 
From arms, and all th' inhlaaoniy of war 
Reflected far, while steeds, and men, and arms 
8eem*d floating wide, and stretch'd in vast array 
O'er the broad bosom of the big-swoln flood, 
That dashing rolPd its beamy waves between. 
The banks promiscuous swarmM with thronging 

. troops. 
These on the flood embarking, those appeared 
Crowding the adverse shore, already past. 
AH was confusion, all tomnltuous din. 
I trembled as 1 look'd, tho' iar abo«, 
And in one blaze ^eir aunt were blended bright 
With the broad stream, while aU the gUit'riiig soeoe 
The more illum'd, and in one splendour clad. 
Struck at the tight, 1 left with headlong baste 
The steep browM hill, and o^ th' extonded vales. 
The wood-girt lawns I ran, nor slacked my pace. 
Till at my flock thick-pantmg I arriv'd. 
And drove far off, benearth a deep-aich'd cave. 
But come, my fnend, inform me in return, 
Since this my abtence what has here lell out 

MTcoy. 
Dost 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, 
IPour'd o'er the fields and ravag'd all they met; 
Nor did that sacred pile escape their arms, 
Whose walls the murderous band to ruin swept. 
And fiU'd its caverns deep with armed throngs 
Greedy of spoil, and soatch'd their treasures old 
From their dark seats : the shrieking sisters fled 
IMspers'd and naked thro' the fields and woods. 
While sable night conceal'd their wand'ring steps. 
Partin my moss-grown cottage shelter sought. 
Which haply scap'd their rage, in secret glade 
Immersed deep. — I rose at early morn. 
With JTcarfu] heart to view the ruin'd dome. 
Where aTl was desolation, all appeared 
The seat of borrour, and devouring war. 
The deq> recesses, aind the gloomy nooks. 
The vaulted isles,, and shrines of imag'd saiut^ 
The caverns worn by holy knees appeared. 
And to the Sun were op'd. — In musing thought 
I said, as on the pile I bent my brow — 
'< This seat to future ages mlW appear. 
Like that which stands hat by the piny rock; 
These silent walls with ivy shall be hung. 
And distant times thall view the sacred pile. 
Unknowing how it fell, with pious awe ! 
The pilgrim here shall visit, and tlie sa'ain. 
Returning from the field at twilight grey. 
Shall shun to pass this way, subdued by fear. 
And slant his coune across the adverse vale !" 

PBfLAMtVBS. 

Mycon, thou see'st that cow, which stands hi cod 
Amid yon msfay lake, beneath the shade 
Of vritlow green, and rmnmates at ease 
The watry herbage that around her floats. 
That way my business leads. I go to greet * 
My fhflier^ and my -wonted cottage dear. 



MTOMI. 

OoMM^ let vf gt : my^iathisUiaBtwaytDOb 
Come, my Philanthes^ and mayfifesauJiatf^ 



Indulge flMre happy days, Ind calm our griefs ! 
Alas ! 1 thought some trouble was at band. 
And long before pretag'd the oomina storm, 
Bv'n when the lightning one disastrous uight 
Blasted the boary oak, whose ample boughs 
ImbowV my cottage ; and as on the grass 
At noon 1 slept, a serpent's sadden hiss 
Broke my sweet rest !— -Bat oome, let as be gosc, 
The Sun begins to welk in ruddy ^ 



ECLOGUE V. 

CORIN AMD CALISTAN. 



CORIN. 

Which way, Calistan, whither dost thou lead 
That iamb, whom yet his mother scaroe has wean'd ? 



His mother. Conn, as site wandering fed. 
With this her tender youqgliog by her side. 
Fell by a shot which from the l^^c caaie. 
That in the neighb'riug fields so Utely rag'il. 



Alas ! what woes that iatal day involved 
Our suff'ring village, and the fields around I 
But come, Calistan, on this rising bank, 
Come, let us sit, atid on the danger past 
Converse secure, and uumber all our griefs. 
See how the flaunting woodbine shades the ~ 
And weaves a mantling canopy above ! 



Corin, that day I chanc'd at earlier hour 
To rise, and drove iar-ofi'my flock impent. 
To wash them in a spring that late I mark'd.. 
There the first motions of the deatbful day 
1 heard, as listening to the trickling wave 
I stood attentive : when like rising storms. 
Hoarse, hollow murmurs from siar 1 heard. 
And uodistinguish'd sounds of distant din. 
Alarm'd I stood, unknowing whence it came ; 
And frova the fount my flock unwash'd I drove 
Suspecting danger : when as nearer yet, 
I came advancing, all was tumult loud. 
AU was tempestuous din on ev'ry side. 
And all around the roar of war was up. 
From rock to rock retost, from wood to wood. 
Not half so loud the tumbling cataract 
Is heard to roar, that from the pine>clad cliflf 
Precipitates its waves; whose distant sounds 
I oil have' listen'd, as at twUight-grey 
I pent my flocks vlthia tbdr wattled cotes. 



For three revolving dagrs, nor voice of bird 
Melodious chaating, «r the hleat of sheep; 
Or lowing oxen, •near the fatal place 
Were heard to sound j but all was silence sad ! 
The ancient grove of ebns deserted stood. 
Where long bad dwelt an aged race of rooks. 
That with their nests had crowded every branch. 
We oft' liare heasd them at the dusk of eve 
In troops retoraing to their weU-known honao, 
in mingled olamom sounding from on high ! 



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141 



CALISTAV. 

r«i,Q, tiloo knov'st tlic fir-mvested cave, 
W^re UXe we sheltered from a gathering storm, 
I or &9cb together drrv'n: beneath its sbade 
1 23d appointed at sweet even-tide 
To meet my Delia homeward as she pass'd^ 
^^friQt: her milking-pail. Alas ! the thoughts 
(iftiutsvcet congress, the preceding night 
>,tten'd my dreams, and all my senses luU'd, 
iod with more joyful heart at mom I rose. 
Ebt all ! that tumult cropt my blooming hopes, 
izxi m confusion wrapt my-love and me. 

coaiN. 
That day, oor in the fold my flock I pent. 
Or valk'd at eve the vales, or on the turf 
Ihxath the wonted oak my dinner took, 
<>ryeptstnoon amid my languid sheep, 
h^'d at ease on the green meadow's bed« 
V*Sen sibie night came on, for not ev'n yet 
for tamult had subsided into peace, 
K-'o then low sounds, and interrupted bursts 
i>f «ar «e heard, and cries of dying men. 
Aid a confiisM hum of the ceasing storm. 
A*l ni|:bt dose-ihrouded in a forest thick, 
Wakfiiil I sate, my flock around me laid ; 
Aod of neglected boughs I kindled up 
A scanty flame, whose darkly-gleaming bl^ze 
iJ»B^ tfa' enlighten'd trees formed hideous shapes, 
Aod spectres pale, to my distemper'd mind. 
I!cv oft 1 look'd behind with cautious fear, 
iad trembled at each motion of the wind ! — 
lA where did yon, Colistan, shelter seek ? 
Tbatdaik retreat concealed your wand 'ring steps ? 

CALISTAK. 

c^nn, tboa know'st the fur-clad hermit's cell 
r^p-«ch*d beneath a rock among the wilds: 
Tbither I bent my flight, a welcome guest, 
Aid not unknown ; for when my flock I fed * 
*r. late beneath the neighboring pastures green, 
I 'jft was wont, invited at his call. 
At noun beneatli his cavern to retire 
Fran the Son's heat, where all the passing h^un 



The good old-man improved with converse high. 
And in my breast 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 : 
Here was my refuge. — All the live-long night 
Pensive by one, pale, lonesome lamp we sate. 
And listen'd to the bleak winds whistling loud. 
And the shrill crash of forests from without. 
Soon as the morning dawned, the craggy height 
Of the steep rock I climb'd, on whose wild top 
His rustic temple stood, and moss-grown frosf 
(The sacred object of bis pious pray'rs) 
Form'd of a tali 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 I left 
Standing at eve, amid the warlike scene 
With tearful eyes affrighted, I beheld. 
Alas, how chang'd the scene ! when there I pitch'd 
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 biythe I heard^ny beauteous Delia sing ! 
Her distant-echoing voice how sweetly rung. 
And all my ravish'd senses wrapt in bliss ! % 



Hast thou not seen the fatal plain of death 
Where rag'd the couflict ? 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. This Iamb demandt my speed. 
See how the youngling hangs his sickly head. 
Tender, and faint?hg for his wonted food ! 
I haste to place him in my shelt'ring cott. 
Fed from my hand, and cherish'd by my care.— 
And see, my friend, far off in darken'd west 
A cloud comes on, and threatens sudden rains. 
Conn, farewell, the storm begins to low'r. 



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TIIE 



POEMS 



OF 



DR. JOSEPH WAR TON. 



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THE 

LIFE OF DR. JOSEPH WARTON, 

BY MR. t'HALMERS. 



Dr. JOSEPH WARTON was born at tlie house of his maternal grandfather, tlie 
iw. Joseph Richardson^ rector of Dunsford, in the year 17^2* Except for a very 
ibort tune that be was at New College school, he was educated by his father until he 
arrifed at his fourteenth year. He was then admitted on the foundation of Win- 
chester College, under the care of the present Tenerable Dr. Sandby, at tliat time the 
hesd of the school, and now chancellor of Norwich. 

He had not been long at this excellent seminary before he exhibited considerable 
intellectttal powers, and a laudable ambition to outstrip the common process qf educa- 
tion. Collins, the poet, was one of his school-fellows, and in conjunction with him and 
another boy, yoong Warton sent three poetical pieces to the Gentleman's Magazine, of 
SQcfa merit as to be highly praised in that miscellany, but not, as hu biographer supposes, 
by Dr. Johnson. A letter also to his sister, which Mr.WooU has printed, exhibits Tery 
tttraoid iu ary proofs' of fancy and observation in one so young. 

In Septeml>er 1740, being superannuated according to the laws of the school, he was 
itDoved from Winchester, and havuig no opportunity of a vacancy at New College, 
k vent to Oriel. Here he applied to his studies, not only with diligence, but with 
tbat true taste for what is valuable, which rendered the finer discriminations of criti- 
cian habitual to bis mind. During his leisure hours he completed several of his 
poenu^ among which hb biographer enumerates the Enthusiast, or the Lover of 
Nature, the Dying Indian, and a prose satire entitled Ranelagh House. He appears 
likewise to have sketdied an allegorical work of a more elaborate kind, whicii he did not 
find time or inclination to complete. On takmg his bachelor's degree in 1 744, he was 
oidnaed to his fathers curacy at Basingstoke, and officiated in that church till February 
1746: he next removed to the duty of Chelsea, whence, in order to complete his recovery 
from the small pox, he went to Chobham. 

About this time he had became a correspondent in Dods1ey*s Museum, to which he 
contributed, as appears by his copy of that work now before me. Superstition, an ode, 
<bted Chelsea, April 1746, and Stanzas written on taking the air after a, long illness. 
Id the preceding yeav, as noticed in his brother's life» he publis&cd by subscription, a 

Vol. XVUL L 



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I4t LIFE OF DR. WARTON. 

volume of his fetber'» poems, partly to do honour to his memory, but priiiGip«Uy witk 
the laudable purpose of payiug what debts he left behind him, and of laisiDg a little 
fimd for himself and family. Whether this scheme answered his full expectations is 
uncertain, but he appears to have been encouraged by some of his Cither's opulent { 
friendS) and probably wa» no loser. The correspondence Mr. WooU has published, { 
shows with what prudence the two brothers husbanded their scanty provision, and I 
with*what affection they endeavoured to suppott and cheer each ether while at^chool | 
and college* I 

Owing to some disagreement with the parishioners of dielsea. which had taken place i 
before h( left that curacy, he accepted the duty of Chawton and Droxford, but after a i 
few months returned to Basingstoke* In 1747-8 he was presented by the duke of Bol- 
ton to the rectory of Winsbde, and as this, although a l^ing of small produce, was 
probably considered by him as the earnest of more valuable preferment, he immediately 
married Miss Daman^ of that neigUMKirhottd, to whom, his biographer wforms us, he 
had been some time enthusiastically attached. In 1747^ according to Mr. WooU's account, 
he had published a volume of odes» in conjunction with Collins, but on consulting 
the literary registers of the time, it appears that each published a vdome oi poems 
in 174$, and in the same month* It cannot now be ascertained what degree of fane 
accrued to our author from this volume^ but in the preface we find hin avowing thosa 
scBtiiBeuts OR the nature of genuine poetry wbicb he expanded more at fau^ after- 
wards, and which were the foundation of what haa since been leimed '* the school of 
the WartonsC 

'^ The public," he says, ** has been so much accustomed of late to didactic po^ 
alone, and ess^s on moral subjects,, that any woA, where the imagination is much 
indulged, will perhaps not be relished or regarded* The author therefore of that 
pieces is in some pam, lest certain austere critica should think them too (wadM or 
descriptive. But as he is convmoed that the fiiflhioe of moralisiag in veise has been 
carried too £ur, and as he looks upon invention and imagination to be theehief fhcalties 
of a poet, so he will be happy if the following Odes may be looked upon as aa 
aUempt to bring back poetry into its right chaaneL''«*-In 1749 ke pnblishad hk ode to 
Mr. West. 

In 1751, his patron the duke of Bolton invited Um to be his eompaaian in n tour 
to the south of France K For this, Mr. WooU informs us^ he had two motivest «< the 
society of a man of learning and taste, and the acammmbitiim of a protestani deigyman, 
who, immediately on the death of his dulchess» then in a confirmed droptjF, oonM 
marry him to the kidy with whom he livedo and wha was uasversally knowa and clistin- 
guished by the nauic of Polly Peachum." 

Whichever of those motives predominated in the duke's mind, it is mach to be re- 
gretted that our author so far forgot what was due to his character and profeaaioitt as ta 
accept the offer. But if any circumstance besidea the conseiousnass of daing wrongs 

1 << On tbis oocanoD bis brother mrote that beantiAil Ode sent to a FvJead on leariogi a ^voucite 
Village in Hampshire ; which alone, in my opinion, would place him in the higher order of poets : and 
which is one of the most exquisite descriptive pieces in the whole body of English poetry. Every line 
paints, with the nicest and most discrimioathrd touskcs, Ifae scenery idKMit Wyosbde and Hackwood.* 
fiiydge&' CcBsnta Uteraria, rol. 5. 178. C 



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LIFE OF DR. WARTOK 14/ 

I cirfbitter the remembrance of this solitary blemish in his public life, it was, that» 
r ail» die oaly hopes which could justify his comj^iaiice were Tery ungraciously dis- 
For some reason or other, be was obliged to leave his patron^ and come to 
ED^and before the dutcbess died, and when that erent took place, and he solicited 
fttnmmm to return to tlie duke, he had the mortification to learn that the ceremony 
had been performed by Mr. Devisme, chaplain to the embassy at Turin. 

Soon after his return to England, he published his edition of Virgil in English and 
Latin, the Mnad translated by Pitt, and the Eclogues and Georgics by hmiself, wlio 
abo contributed the notes on the whole. Into this publicatioo, he introduced Warbnr- 
tan's Dissertation on the sixth £neid: a. commenlary on the character of lapis by 
Atterbnry, and on the shield of £neas by Whitehead, the laureat, ortginally published 
in Dodsley*8 Museum; and three Essays on Pastoral, Didactic and Epic Poetry written 
by himseUr. Much of this valuable work, begun in 1748-9> was printed when he was 
abroad, and the whole completed in 1753. . It is utmeeessary to a<Jld that hb share in 
die transbttkm, his notes, and especially his Essays, raised him 'to a very high reputa- 
tion among the scholars and critics of his age. The secpnd edition, which appeared 
a few years after* was mnch improved. In additbn to the other honours which 
faulted from fius dis^day of dasaical taste, the nniveiaity of Oxford conferred upon 
kirn the di^gree of master of arts, by diploma, dated Joue 2% 1759- Such is Mr. 
Wooffis account, bu^ik is evident from the date that his Essay likewise preceded this 
jmt matk of esleem* 

Daring the year 1753, he was faiviled to assist id the Adventurer, which was begun 
by Hawkesw<»rlb, m 1752. The invkalion came from his friend Dr. Johnson, who 
isfcnied hiaa that the literary partners wished to asugn to him the provfaiee of criti* 



His coolribntions to the Advenkoror amount to twenty-lbnr papers. Of these a few 
are of the humourous cast, but the greater part consist of elegant criticism, not that 
ef eoM sagacity, but warm from tte heart, jand poweifolly addressed to the finer 
ftefiaigs as well as to the judgment. His eriticd papers on Lear have never beea 
exceeded for just taste and discriminatkifi. His difqpositiott by m selecting, and iUns- 
tialhig thote beauties of ancient and modem poetry, wbich» like the beauties of 
aiture, strike and please many who are yet hieq^ble of detferibing or analysug them. 
Ma. 101, on the blemishes in the Faradise Lost, is an example of the delicacy and 
ini|MalUity whfa whkb writings of estabtisbed fame onghl to be examined. His ob- 
lervatioos on the Odyssey, in Nos. 75, 80, and 83, are original and judicious, but 
It may be doubted whether fbey htfve detached many seh^ars from the accortomed 
preference given to the Iliad. If any oli^eclioH may be made to Dr. Warton's critical 
pipers, it b that his Greek occurs too frequently in a work intended for domestic 
iostrnclkMi. His style is ahvays pore and perspicuous, but sometimdB it may be dis- 
coveted, vritbout any other hrformaHon, that '' he kept^ oompai^ with Dr. Johnson." 
Tkefintpartof No, 139, if found detnihed, might hsrve been attributed totfaat writer^ 
It has all his manner, not mei%ly '' Ihe cotttorsionsof the sybiT bvt somewhat of the 
''impiitiSon*.'' 

» 1 Hope I iUI bo eicUMd for tNOMcribiiig thb character of Dr. Warloa»s Advcntarers, written 
vbea the sobiect «u fi^sh in memory, for the British Essayist, vol. nili. v^^- ?• "^* ^« 



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»*« UFE OF DR. WARTOW. 

About this lime he appears to have meditated a history of the revival of UterahiKr 
His first iatetitioD was to publish Select Epistles of Politian, Erasmus, Grolius and 
others, wkh notes* but after some correspondence with his brother, who was to assist 
in the undertaking, it was laid aside, a circumstance much to be lamented, as few 
men were more extensively acquainted with literary history, or could have detailed it 
m a more pleasing form. At a subsequent period he again sketched a plan of aeaiiy 
the same kind, which was likewise abandoned. - Collins, some time before this, bad 
published proposals for a History of the Revival of Learning, with a Life of Leo the 
Tenth, but probably no part was executed, or could indeed be reaaooably expected 
from one of lib unhappy state of mind. 

In 1734, our author was instituted to the liviug of Tunworth, oivtfae preseatation 
of the J«rveise family ^ ; and in 1755, on the resignation of tlie rev. Samuel Speed, 
be was elected second master of Winchester-school, with the management and ad- 
vantages of a boardwg house.' lo the following year, sir Geoi^e Lyttelton, theo 
advanced to the peerage, Goramenced the patronage of his nobility by bestowing a scarf 
on Mr. Warton* - He had for some time enjoyed the familiar acquaintance of sir 
George, and assisted him in the revisal of his history of Heniy H. 

Amidst all these honours and employments, he now found leisure to complete tha 
first volume of his celebrated Essay on the Writings and Genius of Pope, which he 
dedicated to Dr. Young, but did not subscribe his name. Dodaley likewise, although 
the real publisher, thought proper to employ his deputy Mrs. Cooper on this occasion. 
The followmg passage from one of Dodsley's letters published by Mr. Wool], will pro- 
bably throw some light on his motive. << Your Essay is published, the price 5s. bound. 
I gave Mrsk Cooper directions about advertising, and have sent it to her this afteroooo, 
to desire she will look after its being inserted m the evening papers. I have a pleasure 
iu tellmg you that it is liked m general, and particularly by such as you would wish 
should like it. But you have surely not kept your secret : Johnson mentioned it to 
Mr. Hitch asyottrs.-^Dr. Buch meotiotted it to Ganick as yours.— And Dr. Akenside 
mentioned it as yours to me. — And many whom. I cannot now thmk on have asked 
for it as yours or your brother's. I have sold many of them in my own shop, and 
have dispersed and pushed it as much as I can: and have said more than J could hme 
Moid ifm^ nmne had been to it!* The objections^ made to this adnurable piece of 
criticism will be considered hereafter. In the mean time,, they were powerful enough 
to damp the ardour of the essayist, who left his work in an imperfect state for the^ 
long space of twenty-six years. 

In May 1766, he was advanced to the head mastenhip of Wmchester school, a 
situation for which he was eminently qualified, and m which his shinmg abilities, ur- 
banity of manners, and eminent success in producing scholan of distinguished talents, 
will be long and affectionately remembered. la consequence of this promotion he 
once more visited Oxford, and proceeded to the degree of bachelor and doctor in 
divinity* la 177^$ he lost the wife of his early affection, by whom, he had six chil- 
dren. The stroke was severe, but the necessity of providing a substitute for his 
ebiidren, and an uitelligent and tender companion for himself, induced him in the 

3 AboQt this time be sent some of his jufCDile ptecei to Dudnley^ii CoIltct:<« of Poeas. C. 



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LWE OF DR. WARTO>C. 44© 

folowmg year to « marry Miss Nicholas, daugliter of Robert Nicholas, «sq. a de- 
scendant of J>r» Nicholas, formerly warden of Winchester. 

The tenour of his life was now evep. During such times as he could spare from the 
KhofA, and especially on the return of the Christmas vacation, he visited his friends 
in London, among whom were the whole of that class who composed Dr. John^n s 
lileiary club, with some persons of rank by whom he was highly respected, but who 
ippear to have remembered their old master in ^very thing but promotion. In 1782, 
be was indebted to his friend and correspondent Dr. Lowth, bbhop of London, for 
s prebend &f St. Paul's, and the living of Tborley in Hertfordshire, which, aHer some 
arrangements, he exchanged for Wickham. This year also he published his second 
aadcondttding volume of the Essay on Pope, and anew edition, with some alterations, 
of the first. 

In 1786, through tlie interest of lord Sliannon, be obtained a prebend in Wuichester 
cathedra], and through that of lord Malmesbury, the rectory of Easton, whkh, within 
the year, he was permitted to exchange for Upham. The amonnt of these preferments 
was considerable, but surely not beyond his merit, and it must be observed, they came late 
when bis fanuly couM no longer «xpect the advantages of early income and economy. 
He was sixfy years of age before he had any benefice, except the small livmgs of 
WyBslade and Tuoworth, and nearly seventy before he enjoyed the remainder. The 
uequal distribution of ecclesiastic preferments would be a subject too delicate for 
discusHon, if they were nniformfy the reward* of ecclesiastical services, but as, among 
other reasons, they are bestowed on account of literary attainments, we may be allowed 
to wonder that Df« Warton was not remunerated in an early period of "life, when he 
stood almost at the head of English scholars, and when his talents, in their full vigour, 
would have dignified the highest stations. 

In the year t7dSi» he came to a resolution to resign the mastership of Winchester. 
He was now begmning to feel that his time of life required more ease and rekxation 
than the duties of the school permitted, and his resolution was probably strengthened 
by some unpleasant proceedings at that period among the scholars. Accordingly be 
gave in his resignation on the twenty-third of July, and retired to his rectory at 
Wkkham. A vote of thanks followed from the wardens, kc^ of the school, for the 
cncottiagement he had given to genius and industry, the attention he had paid to 
the intioductlon of a correct taste in composition and cUssical learning, and the many 
and various services which he had conferred on the Wiccamical societies through the 
long course of years in which he filled the places of second and head master. These 
vese not words of course, but truly felt by the addressers, although they form a veiy 
aiadeqttate character of him as master. 

During his retirement at Wickham, he was induced by a liberal offer from the 
booksellers of London, and more probably, by his love for the task, to superintend a 
new edition of Popes Works, which he completed in 1797» in nine volumes octavo. 
That this was the most complete and best illustrated edition of Pope was generally allowed, 
bnt it had to contend with objections, some of which were not nrged with the respect 
due to the veteran critic who had done so much to reform and refine the taste of his 
age. It was proper to object that he had introduced one or two pieces which ought 
never lo have been published, but it was not so proper or necessary to object that he 



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1 50 LIFE OF DR. WARTON. 

had given us his Essay cut down into notes. Besides that this was nnavoidaUe, they 
who made the objection had not been very careful to compare the new with the old 
matter ; they wouid have found upon a fair examination that his original illastrations 
were very numerous, and that no discovery respectmg Pope's character or writings 
ma'^!? since the edition of Warfourton, was left untouched. 

It has already been mentioned that he had once an intention of compiling a History 
of the Revival of Leamiug, and thai he. had abandoned it. Atmut the year 1/84 \ 
however, he issued proposals for a work which would probably have mcluded much 
of his original purpose. This was to have been comprised in two quarto volnmeSp 
and to contain the Histoty of Grecian, Roman, Italian, and French Poetry m four 
parts. I. From Homer to Nonnus : IT. From Ennius to Boetius : III. From Dante to 
Metastasio : IV. From W. de Lorris to Voltau-e. This he announced as ** preparinj; for 
the press." Probably his brother's death, and hb desire to complete his History of 
English Poetry, diverted hhn from his own design : but it does not tippcar that he 
made any progress in either. 

After the publication of Pope, he entered on an edition of Dryden, and abonl Ae 
year 1 799y had completed two vohimes with notes, which are now in the possession 
of lib son, the rev. John W-^rton, who has undertaken to give them to the world. 
At this time the venerable author was attacked by an incumble disorder in his kidiieys. 
which terminated his useful and honourable life on Feb. 2S, 1800, in his seveaty-eigbtli 
year \ He left a widow, who died in 1 8<)5, a son and three daughters, the yoongest 
by his second wife. He was interred in the same grave with hb iirst wife, in the 
north aisle of Winchester cathedral : and the Wiccamists evinced thehr respect for 
hb memory by an elegant monument by Flaxman, placed against the pillar next 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 Mldhutst m Soaiexy pub* 
Ushed Biographical Memoirs of Dr. Warton, with a Selection from hb Poetry and a 
Literary Correspondence. From all these, the present sketch has l>een compiled, wHh 
some additional particulars gleaned from the literary joumab of the times, and other 
sources of information. 

The personal character of Dr. Warton continues to be the theme of prabe with 
all who knew him. Without aftectation of superior philosophy, he possessed aa inde* 
pendent spirit, and amidst what would have been to others very bitter dbappoint* 
ments, he was never known to express the language of dbcontent or envy. As a hus- 
band and parent he displayed the tenderest feelings mixed with that prudence which 
unplies sense as well as affectk)n. His mannes^ 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 residence, he 
mixed cariy with the worid, sought and enjoyed the society of Ae feir sex, and tem- 
pered hb studious^habits with the tender and polite attentions necessary m piomiscoous 

^ My copy of bis Proposals Ims no date, but as Mr. Maty pubttsM tbsm in bb Bensw ibr 17S> 
I presume that was the time of their being issued. C. 

A '* His cheerfulness and resignation in affliction were invincible ; evea under the extreme of bodily 
weakness, bis strong mind was unbroken, and his limbs became paralyzed in the very act of dietatitig' 
an epnUe of friendly criticism. So quiet, so composed was his end, that he might more titily be said 
^ cease to live than te have undergone the pangs of death.*' Wooll's Memoin, pp» 102, 103. C. 



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UFE OF DR.WARTOR 151 

htoe onr at . tn this respect tliere was a \isible diflerence between liini and his 
bmtlier, wbeae mamen were moi« careless and unpofished. In the more solid qnalitiei 
«f the heart. Hi true heilerolence, kindness, hospitality, they apptoaclied very closely. 
Tel th^Qgh their incHnations and porsnitswere congenial, and each assisted the other 
in his undertaldngs, it may be questioned, whetlier at any time they couM have ex- 
changed oecitptitioiis:' with equal stores of literature, with eqifal refinement of taste, it 
may be qaesti^ned whether the author of the Essay on Pope could have pursued tlie 
huimj of EogliA poetry, or whether the historian of poetry could have written the 
ptpen we find hi the Adventucer. 

In conversation. Dr. Warton's talents appeared to great advantage* Ik u^as mirth* 
M, tfgvmentative, or eommuakative of observation and anecdote, as he found his 
•odipiny lean to theotteor to the other. His memory was more ridily stored with lite- 
nry hw t o ry than ^rhapa any men of his time, and his range was very extenshre. 
He knew Freaeh and Itahan literature most intimately ; and when conversing oti 
I topics, hiseKtetupore saWet alid opnoioBs bore evidence of the same deli- 
! and caad«iir wbkh appear io his writings. ^ 

Hii btognpher has considered his literal^ efaaracter under the tht^ heads of a poet, . 
m cMe^ aad m hirtiwctor, but it Is as a eritk piineipalty that he will be known to pos- 
teity, mod aa one who, ia the hingHage of Johnson, has tatight ** how the brow of 
ukiuHii may bealiRwIiied, wd-how she May be enabled, with all her.severity, to attract 
and to Migbt'' A book, mdeed, of more deli^tful variety than his Essay on Pope 
has not yit z^pftmn^mor oaefai which there is a more happy SAixtiire of jadgitient and 
■liaibility. It Si nol> b mi t rntf flatter the current opinioas on the rank of Pope* 
aaong pocH^ aaA the atitimr danitad fmnr pmiiuaig his aubjeet for many yebrs. Dh 
htmmm said that ihit was owing «< to his not hovuig been able to penaad^ the world 
la be af his 4pmma u Xo Pope/ TUa waa probafaAy the tiwth^ bat not the whole truth. 
> af a delicate aatare are sapposd to have had some share hi inducmg him to 
WaibortOB waayCt aKwe^ Ihaexcentor of Pope and the gnardian of liis 
. and WaiturtcM was i|o kss the aoti^e and aeaieliS friend, and correspondent of 
Thoasai Wartoa: nor was it any soc^t thai Warbaitoa fiiffiished Roffhead with the 
aiBiafiali fat h» life af fbpit, titt chief object of which was a nide and impotent attack 
aa yw Essay. Wartoarton dlad hi l779f <»* ^ I78t^ Dr. Wartoa eoiapleted his Es^y , 
and atfaofth pomnMM the mnhM thai he did tint dtfer from the eomtikm opinion so 
saacft aa sAa mt^pomd \ Still by fMialing otA what is not poetry^ he gave ulipardon- 
abk ofience to those whose names appear among posits, but whom he has reduced to 



In al tia% hofsever^ aar author piodased! no new doclrinek The severe arrangement 
of poato id his dddkation to Yoang» which annoonded the pnaeiples he mtended to 
apply to Fopa and to the whole body of Ei^lisb pMtry, was evidently taken from 
, the-nephcw of Miton^ la the pre&ce to the Tfaeatram of tbn writer, it is 



<"I ^kmik ymlbr the ffiondlyieUeaey in wtuch you tpbakeTniy Essay OS Pope, I never thobgbt 
«c diagreed so much bb you seem to imagine. All I said, and all I tbink, ia comprehended in these 
voids oC your ovn^ *' He ehote to be the poet of reason rather tbonof &Dcy." Jitter from Dr. Warton 
to Hr. Haytey, published by Mr. Wdolt, p. 406. V. 



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152 UraOFJ)R.WARTON. 

asserted that ** mi, ingenuity and learning in verae« even elegancy itself, tlioii§^ that 
comes nearest, are one thing: true native poetry is another: in which there is a 
certain air and spirit, which, perhaps, the most learned and judicious in other arts do 
not. perfectly apprehend: much less is it attamahle by any art or study.* On this 
text the whole of the Gssay is founded, and whatever objections were raised to it, 
while that blind admiration of Pope which accompanied his long dictatorship con- 
tinued in full force^ It is now generally adopted as the test of poetical merit 
by the best critics, although the partialities which sopie entertain for individual poets 
may yet give rise to difference of opinion respecting the provinces of aigument and 
feeling. 

That Dr. Warton advanced no novel opinions is proved from Phillips's Prefre^; and 
Phillips, there is reason to suppose, may have been indebted to his unde Milton for an 
idea of poetry so superior to what was entertained in his day. It has aUeady been 
noticed, that the opinions of the two Wartons, '' the learned brothers," as tfaey have 
been justly styled, were congenial on most topics of literature, but perhaps in oothmg 
more than their ideas of poetry, which both endeavoured, to exemplify in their own 
productions, although witli different effect. Dr. Warton was certainly, in point of 
invention, powers of description, and variety, greatly inferior to the laureat The 
Enthusiast, the Dying Indian, the Revenge of America, and one or two of his odes, are 
not deficient in spirit and enthusiasm, but the rest are more remarkable for a correct 
and faultless elegance than for any'strikmg attribute of poetry. His Odes, which were 
coeval with those of Collins, must have suffered greatly by comparison. So different 
is taste from execution, and ao strikingly are we reminded of one of bk assertions, that 
" in Qo polished nation, afker criticism has been much studied, and tlie r«iea of writing 
established, has any very extraordinary work appeared*'^ But whik We . are icminded 
of this by his own productions, it may yet l>e doubted whether what may be true when 
affiled to an individual who has lived a Hfe of criticism, will be equally true of a nation. 
Even among our living poets, we may find more than one who have given prooft that 
extraordinary poetry itiay yet be produced, and that the rules of writing are not so 
fixed, 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 skill in others^ he 
would have undoubtedly been in poetry what he was in erudition and criticism. 

As an instructor and divine^ Mr. WoolFs opinion of him may be adopted with 
«ifety. 

" His professional exertions united the qualities of criticism and iBstnlction. When 
tlie higher classes read under him the Greek tragedians, orators, or poets, Uiey re- 
ceived the l>enefit not only . of direct and appropriate information, but of a pure, 
elegant lecture on classical taste. The spirit with which he commented on the pro- 
sopopaeia of (Edipus or Eiectra, the genuine elegance and accumcy with Yfbkh he 
developed the animated rules and doctrines of his favourite Longinus, the inanuating 
but guarded praise he l>estowed, the Weil-judged and proportionate encburagemeot 
he uniformly held out to the first dawning of genius, and tiie anxious assiduity with 
which he pointed out the paths to literary eminence, can never, I ain confident, lie 



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UFE OP DR. WARTON. 15S 

fergotten by those who have hung with stedfast attention on his precepts, and en« 
jo}cdtiie advantage of his superior guidance. Zealous in his adherence to the church 
csUUishmenty and exemplary in his attention t^ its ordinances and duties, he was at 
the same time a decided enemy to bigotry and futolerauce. His style of preaching 
was unafiectedly earnest and impressive ; and the dignified solemnity with which he 
rad the Liturgy (particularly the Comronnion-Service) was remarkably awful. He 
bad the most happy art of arresting the attention of youth on religious subjects. 
Every Wccamical reader will recollect his inimitable commentaries on Grotius, on the 
Sooday evenings, and hb discourse annually delivered in the school on Good Friday : 
theiopressioos made by them cannot be forgotten.'' 



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COMMENDATORY VERSES. 



moBnvM 

mi ft^rnuiM jowpai waktoh, •» t. f. stc. 

TAKEN nOM Mt. WOQLL'S MBMOIU. 

Nm tamco ItfBC qoociiaq; modltibi 



ABSINT loanes Mnc Lacbryma procM ! 
NqIIos Dolori jim Locus ! Arduum 
Vutatis alUe Qui pereg^it 
Vinis iter, LAchrynus Scpolcbio 
Koo iodigebit ooaditos ! — O Tuis, 
Wartone, Bomea Wiccamicit Mcrum, 
O ddce Miiii^ O bonorua 
Ct Stodiit €t Anore fido 
Seinptr eoleodan ! Te qnM Ooaaribis 
Ditavii UBplifl* Ingeou PweiM, 
Natmm : qaM Doctrina saoctaB 
Esqposuit Tibi cnlta Sedes 
Footesqti^ p«n» .* qa5d Tibi Munera 
Pleni prafudit targa satis Manu 
Fdrtttoa : qu6d Virtus Amicos, 
<tedd p4)erit Tibi Fama Laurof : 
frodocta pw^ qabd « Talido frai» 
CoDoemt JEtaa : doote ad Ulttmum 
Sensim TOm obrepcai genectas 
V)z taeito Fede Maadi Oeellos 
Qaiete daosk : (w^mhuktrfwhymoU}) 
Itoe propter, idtri Soitcm Honini daUnH 
Vili invideBtan Ta vocamnt, 
ftntn Te paiit^r beatooa! 
idola M eeaai qnhi, Ju w i a es pii ! 
JooadUori Mimare Morteua ^ 
N<B pranqnamur, Nat wrondan 

S^ prondendum, sini Numeri Viro 
Di^i; (oaqoi isthie nbn Labor arduns) 
JEqnare tanti Quia c a wiiwte 
Pone patet meritos HoDorei ? 
Gem tatei v^t Citliarae SoBOs, 
Qnalcs periti Judicis Auribns 
Cudi p hcM c at, el tabacto 
Ii^enio parit^r scientis 
Lsodare Cfaartis, quioquid amabile, 
Qiici|Did veDustom : d6c minhi acrittr 
Notare facali Nitons 
Sab Specie Macalas latentes ? 
Geoiorfs aequi, cui nte in .omnibus 
C'jlti Popeii Gratia Carminis, 
Xte Splc>>^ Omatusqiie lingua 
Nte faciles placuere Musai. 
At nk mafignd Scripla nte inTid% 
Carptft teveras, Lance sM eatimam 
Calpasqik Virtutesqnft eldem. 
Pro Mciittt Pretiom anogatit.— 



V^l Quis Canendo Spintum et asseqiri 
Vim meretistam, noverat intimof 
Qui Cordii Affisctui movere 
Flectere et Arbitrto volenteii 
SeH moitiores Virgilit Modes 
Aptare Chordis AngliacflB Lyras 
Feliritdr ten^ans, agresti 
Losit amabilit^r CamomA ; 
Seu pleniori Numinis igneo 
Correptus Asto, Mentis Imaginet 
Effiidit altasy SBmuhiaqo^ 
Piodarico intonuit ^rore } 
Horrenda quali earn Sonitu evomeos 
Et Saxa et Ignes JBknA rotat Sinn ^ 
Vel quautus Oreilaaa fervet 
Vorticibns reboans profundis : 
lile ct nivosis milte rapit Jngis 
Collectam Aqoanim Vim, rapidis mens 
Torrentibus, Cursumqu^ in ^uor 
Pnccipitem violentns urget — 
Sed non Camoenas Spiritus et Decor, 
Doctrina Quicquid v^l Pretii fcrat, 
Non eruditae Mentis acre 
Judicium, Ingeaiique Aeumeiiy 
Tft ehariorem reddiderant IViis, 
Wartone ; nee Desideriimi l\ii 
FenrentiiM post Te relmqintiit : 
QuiUft fiicilas siae Labe Ifo^ 
Et milis almi Pectorw Indoles, 
Cordisqu^ aperti laiga BenignitaSs 
Festiyitaa uibana. Candor 
In^enuus, placidique Risos. 
At quails O ! Sermonis AuKsnitaa ! 
SiTO bospitali cum Socils frucos 
MensA aasideres, spaigeretque 
Ungua Sales lepidos faceta ; 
Sententias sei^ Quid OraTS poseerst 
Sublimiores : Qose Sapientia, 
Rerumque Verboromqae Poirfas 
FeiTBt Opem, dubiasqiie piisSM 
I Lites secando soireral !— 4iiBe lu» 
Vox Manda Menles fimdt MlkiW mdss ; 
Anrccta scnsit, Te monantef 
lasolitttoi PaeriKs .ffitas 
Doctrinse Aniorem. Jhm videor Mibi 
Spectare eirc^ Te Juvenum Choro 
Stipatum, i!kt olim ; Qnik 
Ofdme composuere Gestws ! 
Vt Verba captaati QaoSladio 
Div«rsaVttliti Signal PlaoantJod^ 
From laeta, NaSAs et loqaads 
Blaaditias, tacit* probaates ! 
IDoe Bdum Aroicum, bine Ta toK^ 
Patrem colebant ; Qu)n subitb smulut 
Acceinns AfdMr, GtorisBqne 
Corda DOfA moalpcra fliMBAb 



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En! et Labors quaiti S^getem ferunt ! 
£u ! grata claroa Anglia quot Tibi ^ 

Debere Se exukan &tetar, 

WiccamicflB Decora alta Famas ! 
Hi dj^in manebunt, hod toa Ijaadibut 
"Virtus carebit; V^o Capiti impia 
Absclndet hsrentem CoroDam 
Invidis Manas impotentis. 

W. S. GoDDARD 1, Coll. WintoD. 1800. 



ELEGY 

VllTTBM AND SPOKEN BY MK. LfPtCOMl, FBLLOW 
OF NEW COLLBGE» THEN A PRAPOSTOa Q^ WIK- 
OflBSTER SCHOOL. 

The Doon-ticle bour is past, and toil i^ oVr, 

No studious carp« the vacant miud employ. 
Yet hark ! methinks no longer as before 

Yon mead re-echoes the loud shuuts of joy. 
What sudden grief hath seiz'd the youthful band ! 

Say, Wykebam's sons, why rfcigns this silence 
round ? 
Why do ye thus in mute attention stand. 

And listen to the death belPs awlful sound ! 
Ask ye the cause ? tis Warton*s knell ; and lo ! 

The funeral train appears in black array ! 
Down yonder hill in solemn steps and sluw 

The hearse winds 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 shad^ ! for thee these tears are shed 

The snllen death-belPs lingering pause between; 
For thee o*er all a pious calm is spread, 

And hush'd the munDors of this playinl scene. 
O name to Wykeham*8 sons for erer dear, 

While thus for thee the flood of teaia we poor. 
Thy partial spirit seeois to linger here. 

Blessing awhile the scenes it lov'd before. 
Within these walls, to ev'ry duty true, 

Twas thine to form the studious mind of youth. 
To ape the fane 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 miyestic stand. 
And spread their olust'ring branches to the air. 

And stretch their shadow o*er a smiling land. 
Youth may forcet this transitory tear, 

But manhood fisels a deeper sense oiiP wofr— 
And sure thy name to them is (Joubly dear 
Who to thy care their ripen'd honours owe. 

' The excellent and indefatigable head-master 
•of Winchester Gbllege, under whose direction the 
school has raised itself to its 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- 
sity, strongly mark the talents and government of 
those who condnct the seminary, and prove to the 
woild 

• • • quid mens rit^ quid indoles 
Nutrita frintis sub penetralibns 
Posset WooLB. 



They heard th' inciting dictates of thy tongue, 
For thou oould'st smooth the way thro* leamiog's 



Oft on thy words in dumb attention hung 

mi emulation kindled at thy praise. 
O mark their grief, e'en now in tender hues, 

By mem'ry trac*d, their days of youth return ; 
But ah I fond memory ev*ry pang renews. 

And points with speechless sorrow to thine urn. 
So stream their tears: but thou artthron'd on high, 

Haply the seraphs* hallowM choir among, 
lAill'd by soft sounds of sweetest minstrelsy, 

While Wykeham Usteas and approves the song. 
O for a spark of that celestial fire [loul ! 

With whie)i bright fancy warm'd thy kindling 
When erst the full chords of thy living lyre 
Held all the list^iing passions in controul. 
Alas ! tho' vain the wish, tho' weak the lay 
That feebly celebrates a Warton*s naine^ 
Yet, happy shade ! there stiJI remains a way 

To raise a lasting monument of fomc. 
Be ours the virtues thy example taught 

To feel, preserve, and practise, while we live j 
Thus only can we praise thee as we ought. 

The uoblest tribute this thy sons can give. 
Lo ! when Aflecdon at the close of eve 

To yonder fane's dim cloyscers shall repair. 
No more with fhiitless anguish shall she grieve. 

But leara the lessons of true wisdom there. 
There, while she sees thy sculptured bust arise, 

Rais'd by the band of gratitude and love. 
Virtue shall consecrate her tend'rrst sighs. 

And thoughts exalted her rapt spirit move. 
Then Wyket^ua's sons, with ardour new imprest. 
Shall breathe one pray'r— that such their lot may 
be; 
Praised by the wise and good, to sink to rest. 
And moum*d by tears, such as they shed for tbee. 
Many in mmiber, and truly worthy of the sub- 
ject, were the elegies on the death of Dr. Wartoo. 
To insert all would have been impossible, to select 
from his own judgment, the editor feels, would 
have been invidious : he has therefore confined 
himself to the above, as spoken at the fint public 
Wykebamical meeting alter the event, and conse- 
quently endowed wi^ the sanction of the sodety. 

WOOLU 



ENCOMIUM ON JOSEPH WARTON. 

FROM MAHT's VElSaS TO HIS SIXMOaY. 

O TOWERS of Venta, and thou gentle stream, 
ttchin, ye bending vales, and breezy downs. 
You best his praise can witness : — Oft he dtmVd 
In mom of life your fir-ciownM hill, and roamM 
Your osier^d meads, and pao'd your cloisters dim ; * 
You to 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 cheer'd his closing day. 

For well was Warton lov'd, and well deserved I 
Whether he led the faltering step of youth 
To offer incense at the Muse's sjirine; 
Or, justly stem, checVd with fbrtnddingfn 



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ImpetoODi vice ; or with spproviog tmile 

Cteridi'd the hopes of virtue's modest bud ; 

StiQo; to cuoviiK'«, and gentle to persuade, 

" His tongue dropt manna,'* and his ardent eye 

Spariled with temper'd rage, or beam'd with joy. 

Boundless : nor wonder; for within his heart 

Dwelt pore afiecticm, and the liberal glow 

Of charity, joinM to each native grace, 

Wbicb the sweet Muse imparts to those she loves. 

His wst the tear of pity, soft as showers 

That (all on April meadows, his the rapt 

Impsssian*d thought, quick as the lightning's glance, 

And warm as summer suns : and every flower 

Of poesy, wbic)i by the laurell'd spring 

Of Aganippe, or that Roman stream 

Tiber, or Tuscan Amo, breath'd of old, 

In fragrance sweet ; and every flower, which since 

Hath ^nk the dew beside the banks of Thames, 

Met in his genial breast and blossoin'd there. 

Happy old man ! for therefore didst thou seek 
Ecrtatic vision by the haunted stream. 
Or grove of Iniry : then thy nightly ear 
(As from the wild notes of some airy harp) 
Thrill'd witli strange music ; if the tragic plaints 
And soanding lyre of those Athenians old, 
Rieh-niJnded poets, fathers of the stage, 
RousM thee enraptur'd ; or the pastoral reod 
Of Mantuan Tityrus chaim'd ; or Dante fierce. 
Or more majestic Homer swelled thy soul. 
Or Milton's muse of fire, 
fiappy old man ! Yet not in vain to thee - 
Wss Fancy's wand committed t not in vain 
Did Seienoe fill thee with her sacred lore :^ 
But if of fiur and lovely aught 
Of good and virtuous in her hallow^ walls, [years, 
Thniugb the 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 batlie the youthful lip in the fre^sh spring, 
* The pure well-head of Poesy,* didst point. 
Like thine own lov'd Longinus, to the steep 
Parnassian crag, and led'st thyself the way ;— - 
Be it thy praise, that thou didst clear the path 
Which leads to Virtue's fane ; not her of stem 
And stoic aspect dark, till Virtue wears 
The gloom of Vice; but such as warms the heart 
To acts of love, an^ peace, and gentleness. 
And tenderest charity ; such as around 
Thy earthly passage shed her cheerful light. 
And such as Wykeham best might love to view. 

So thine allotted stetion didst thou filj. 
And now art passed, to thy peaceful grave. 
In age and honours ripe. Then not for thee 
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 chaiot 
Shall in this dreary prison-house confine 
Spirits ^ light ; nor shall the Heav'n-bern mind 
Oblivious linger in the silent cave 
Of eadlesr hopeless sleep. But as the Smi, 
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 set. 
So mayst thou rise in glory ! 



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POEMS 



OF 



DE. JOSEPH WAR TON. 



SAPPBO'S ADVICE. 

Wtimif WHBH AT WINCBBSTBB SCHpOL* 

Tii*D whh the Tiaits of the day, 
SontoUie on a M>fa lay; 
Aad leaniog od her elbow, thought 
Which was the loveliest silk she boagfat, 
Hov by sir Plume she was gallanted, 
Hov at the Park and Opera flaunted f 
What silly hearts she had subdu'd, 
And bow she best might play the prude ! 
Till Sleep his heavy poppies spread, 
Adovn she drops her drowsy head \ 

bidden a female phantom rose. 
Her check with healthy roses glows. 
Her lively eyes are fill'd with fire, 
Yetmodestlyfbrbid desire: . 
Her eboQ cmls hang loose behind, 
Aad bard-wreaths her temples bind : 
A nofvy robe her limbs array'd. 
While thus the vision, Sappho, said : 
— " It grieves me much, alas ! to find 
The &ir neglect rimprove her miod ! 
^ toys that your attention claim, 
A Qredan maid would blnsh to name : 
While you're afQusttng your commode, 
I^daa, or I, could make an ode I 
Ko gaudy ribbons deckM her head, 
A tiemhling Ggbt no diamond shed ; 
In white and Innocency drest 
The plamest beauties wen: tlkc best : 
A pen I bandied for a fan. 
And lesnt not how to dance but scan : 
ThoK pretty eyes f^how soon they close ! 
Thoie cheeks— how bdes the blushing rose ! 
^I'^ ige haa weaoM your love for dress, 
Aadakes and b e aux your years confess; 
Whea A m er ato no more can shine ; 
Aad Stella owns Ae's^ not ditine ; 
^ Mnas aad merit shall sopply 
pK Umhiiig dmk. Hie spariAng eye; 
fv nynphs, regardless of their fKm 
SMi iM Mtem to the Qraoei.'* 



THE ENTHVSUSTz 



iOVER OF NATURE. 
warrTBK ih WiO. 
Rare vero barbaroque Isetatur* HurtiaL 

— — Ut mihi devio 
Bupes at vacaum nemus 

Mirari libet I Uotmo$^ 

Ye green-rob'd Dryads, oft at dusky eve 
By wondering shepherds seen, to forests browD» 
To mifrequented meads, and pathless wilds. 
Lead me from gardens deck'd with art^ vahi pompii 
Cftn gilt alcoves, can marble-mimic goda^ 
Parterres embroidered, obelisks, and urns, 
-Of high relief ; can the long, q^reading lake. 
Or vista lesKning to the sight ; can Simr, 
With all her Attic fones, such raptures raise. 
As the thrush-haunted cqpse, where lightly leapt 
The fearful &wn the rustling leaves along; 
And the brisk squirrel s|>orts fram'bough to boagl^ 
While from an hallow oak, whose naked roots 
Overhang a pensive rill, the busy bees 
Hum drowsy lullabies } Tlw hards of old. 
Fair Nature's friends, sought such retreata, to ehann 
Sweet Echo with their songs ; oft too they met. 
In summer evenings, near sequestered bowers. 
Or mouatain<nymph, <ir Muse, and eager learnt 
Tbe moral strains she taught to mend maidcind. 
As in a secret grot * ^eria stole 
With patriot Numa, and in silent night 
l^liisper*d him sacred laws, he list'nnig sat. 
Rapt with her virtuous voice, old Tyber lean^ 
Attentive on his urn, and husVd his waves. 

Rich in her weeping country's spoils, VerMifles 
May boast a thousand fountains, that can cast 
The tortur'd waters to the distant HeaVas ; 
Yet let me choose some pine-topt proripice 
Abrupt and shaggy, whence a foamy stream. 
Like Anio, tumbling roars ; or some bleak heath| 
Where utraggling ifands the raooraftd jmupWc, 

>livy,booki« cb.l9. 



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Or yew-tree icathM ; while in clear prospect round. 
From the grove's b^som spires emerge, aod smolce 
In bluish wreaths ascends, ripe harvests wave. 
Low, lonely cottages, and ruin'd topi 
Of Gothic battlements appear, and streams 
Beneath the sun-beams twinkle. — ^Tbe shrill larfc, 
That wakes the woodman to his early task, 
Or Iove«8ick Philomel, whose luscious lays 
Sooth lone night-wanderers, the moaning dove 
Pitied by list*ning milk-maid, fiir excel 
The deep-mouthM viol, the soul-lulling lute, 
And battle-breathing trumpet Artful sounds ! 
That please not like the choristers of air. 
When 6rst they hail th' approach of laughing May. 

Can Kent design like Nature? Mark whereThamcs 
Plenty and pleasure poors through Lincoln's meada^ ; 
Can the great artist, though with taste supreme 
EoduM, one beauty to this Eden add ? 
Though he, by rtiles unfetter'd, boldiy scorns 
Formality and method, round aod square 
Disdaining, plans irr^ularly greaL 

Creative Titian, can thy vivid strokes, . 
Or thine, O graceful Raphael, dare to vie 
With the rich tints that paint the breathing mead ? 
The tfaousand-colour'd tulip, violet's bell 
Snow-clad and medc, the vermil-tiQCtur'd rose. 
And golden crocus ? — Yet with these the maid, 
Phillis or Phcebe, at a feast op wake 
Her jetty locks enamels ; fairer she. 
In innocence alid homespun vestments dressed, 
Than if cerulean sapphires at her ears 
Shone pendant, or a precious diamond-cross 
Heaved gently on her panting bosom wbitie. 

Yon shepherd idly stretch'd on the rude rock, 
Listening to dashing waves, and sea-mew's clang 
Higb-hovering o'er his head, who views beneath 
The dolphin dancing o'er the level brine, 
Feels more true bliss than the proud admiral, 
Amid his vessels bright with bumish'd gold 
And silken streamers, though his lordly nod 
Ten thousand war-worn mariners revere. 
And great iEneas gaz'd with more delight 
On the rough mpuntain shagg'd with horrid shades, 
(Where cloud-compelling Jove, as fancy dream'd, 
Descending, shook his direful egis black) 
Thfin if he enter'd the high Capitol 
On golden columns rear'd, a conquer'd world 
£)^iausted, to enrich its stately heiid. 
More pleas'd be slept in poor Evander's cot 
On shaggy skins, lullM by sweet nightingales. 
Than if a Nero, in an age refined, 
Beneath a gorgeous canopy had plac'd 
His royal guest, and bade his minstrels sound 
Soft slumb'rous Lydian airs, to sooth his rest. 

Happy the first of men, ere yet confin'd 
To smoky cities i who in sheltering groves, 
Warm caves, and deep-sunk vallies liv'd and lov'd. 
By cares unwounded ; what the sun aod showers. 
And genial earth untillag'd, could produce. 
They gather'd grateful, or the acorn brown 
Or blushing berry ; by the liquid lapse 
Of murrn'ring waters calPd to slake their thirst. 
Or with fair nymphs their sun-brown limbs to bathe; 
With nymphs who fondly clasp'd their fav'rite 
youths. 



9 The tarl of Lincoln's twrace at Weybridge in 
Surrey. 



Unaw'd by shame, beneath the beechen shade, 
Nor wiles, nor artificial coyness knew. 
Then doors and walls were not } the meldiigmaid 
Nor fixiwn of parents fear'd, nor husband's threats ; 
Nor had curs'd gold their tender hearts allur'd : 
Then beauty was ndt venal. lojur'd Love, 
O ! whither, god of raptures, art thou fled } 
While Avarice waves his golden wand around, 
Abhorr'd magician, and his costly cup 
Prepares with baneful drugs, t' enchant the souls 
Of each low-thoughted fair to wed for gain. 
In Earth's first in&ncy (as sung the bard. 
Who strongly painted what he boldly thooght). 
Though the fierce north oft smote with iron whip 
Their sbiv'ring' limbs, though eft the bristly boar 
Or hungry lion, 'woke them with their bowls, > 
And scar'd them from their moss-grown caves, to 

rove 
Houseless ^xA cold in dark tempestnons nights; 
Yet were not mjrriads in eiubattl'd fields 
Swept off at once, nor had the raging seas 
O'erwhelm'd tlie found'ringbaik and shrieking crew; 
In vain the glassy ocean smil'd to tempt 
The jolly sailor, unsuspecting harm. 
For Commerce ne'er had spread her swelling sails, 
Nor had the wond'ring Nereids ever heard 
The dashing oar : then famine, want, and pain \ 
Sunk to the grave their &intinsr limbs ; but us, 
Diseasefut dainties, riot, and excess. 
And feverish luxury destroy. In brakes 
Or marshes wild unknowingly they cropp'd 
Herbs of malignant juice*; to realms remote 
While we for powerful poisons madly roam. 
From every tiosdous herb collecting death. 
What though unknown to those primeval sires 
The well-arch'd dome, peopled with breatbiog 

forms 
By fair Italians skilful band, unknown 
The shapely column, and the crumbliog busts 
Of awful ancestors in long descent ? 
Yet why should man, mistaken, deem it nobler 
To dwell in palaces, and higb-rooTd halls. 
Than in God's forests, architect supreme ! 
Say, is the Persian caqpet, than the field's 
Or meadow's mantle gay, mora richly wov'n; 
Or softer to the votaries of ease 
Than bladed grass, perfum'dwithdew-droptfiow'r»^ 
O taste corrupt I that luxury aod pomp. 
In specious names of polish'd manners veil'd. 
Should proudly banish Nature's simple charms 1 
All beauteous Nature ! by thy boundless cfaanns 
Oppress'd, O where shall I begin thy praise, 
Wiiere turn th' ecstatic eye, how ease my breast 
That pants with wild astonishment and love ! 
Dark forests, and the op'ning lawn, refresh'd 
With ever-gushing brooks, hill, meadow, dale^ 
The balmy bean-field, the gay-clover'd close. 
So sweetly intercbang'd, the lowing ox, 
The playful lamb, the distant water.&ll 
Now foinUy heard, now sv«Uing witti the breeze, 

3 Some, as thou saw'st b^r 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 moostrons crew 
Before thee shall appear ; tkat thon OMiyat know 
What misery th' inabrtinence of Eva 
Shall bring on meiv 

Pandisa Lvt book 1 Uh* 



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A SATIRE. 



l«l 



Tbe nond 9fpmtanA reed from haztl-bower, 
Tte chorat biids. Die neigfaiog iteed, that nioiEi 
Hii ^apfked mate» stouf: with intense drnte. 
The ripea'd orchard when the ruddy orba 
Betiriit the green leaves bluah, the azure sltiita. 
The d w a s fa i Son that through Earth's vitals pours 
Deligfat and health, and beat ; all, all conspire 
To raise, to aooth, to harmonize the mind. 
To lift on wings of praise, to the great Sire 
Of beiog and of heanCy, at whose nod 
Creation started from the gloomy vault 
Of dieaiy Chaos, white the gnesly king 
Muiwar'd lo feel his hoisterous power confin'd. 

Wbataie the lays of artful Addison *, 
CeUly correct, to Shakespear's warblings wiM } 
Wfaon on the winding Avon's willow*d hanks 
Fur Fncy found, and bore the smiling babe * 
Toactesecavem: (still the shepherds show 
The sacred phuse, whence with religious awe 
They hear, returning Ikom the field at eve, 
Slange whisp'ringB of sweet music through the air) 
Here, as with hooey gathered from the rock. 
She fed the little prattler, and with songs 
Oft sooth'd his wand ring easi, with deep delight 
On her soft lap he sat, and caught the sounds. 

Oft near some crowded city would I walk, 
Tittming the fer-off noises, rattling cars. 
Loud shoots of joy, sad shrieks of sorrow, knells 
Fall sbvly tolling, instfumaols of trade. 
Striking mine ears with one deep-swelling hum. 
Or wavi>ring near the sea, attend the sounds 
Of hollow wmds, and ever-heating waves. 
Ev'n when wild tempests swallow up the plaiiis. 
Ami P or ea sP blaats, big hail, and rains combine 
To diake the groves and mountains, would I sit. 
Pensively vusiog on the ontngeona crimet 
That wskeHeaven's v e ngeance; atsuchsolemn hours. 
Demons and goblins through the dark air shriek. 
While Hncal, with her hkck-brow'd sisters nine. 
Bides o*cr the £aith, and scatters woes and death. 
Then too, they say, in drear Egyptian wiUs 
The lion and the tiger prowl fiDr prey 
With foafings loud! the listening traveller 
Starts fear otniok, while the hollow echoing vwMs 
Of pyiamida inoKaae the daatMiil sounds. 

But let ma never fiol in cloudless nights, 
Whm silsBt Cjralhia in her silver car 
Through tliehlne ooocave slides, whenshioethe hills, 
IViaUe Iha iliw,andwnrtHB knk tip*d with gold. 
To nek some level mead, and tiiere invoke 
Old Ifidnigfaira sister, Contemplatkm sage. 



iWhen 



ToKawe nvsfemd Goto to the tragodiasi 
ar, I am mclined to lospeot there was as 



I mnlioc « depravity of taste Hi the decisioQ. 
The Es^jlah drama he well knew was not exalted 
by his pan^yric, whilst be mteaded that it should 
besemiblydepieciatedbyhiseeisitte. The justly 
cskhrakd Hrs. Montague, in her Essay on the 
WritiQ(p and Genius of oor great dramatic poet, 
hss completely nfuted the French ontic's misiepra- 



^ Fhr from Uie Sun and tmimet ffale 
In thy green lap was Nature's dariiog laid, 
What tune, where lucid Avon stiay'd. 
To 1dm the mighty mother did unveU 
^ Her awefal tee. The dauntless child 
StnlBh'dlBfthIm little aims and mil'd. 

Gray. 
Vou XVIII. 



(Queen of the nigged brow and stem-Hxt eye) 
To lift my soul above this little Earth, 
This fully-fetter'd world : to purge my earsj 
That I may hear the rolling planets' song, 
And tuneftil tarning spheres : if this be barred. 
The little Fays ^ that dance in neighbooriog dafes^ 
Sipping the night-dew, while they laugh and love. 
Shall charm me with atrial notes. — As thus 
I wander musing, lo, what aweful forms 
Yonder appear ! sharp-ey'd Philosophy 
Clad hi dun robes, an eagle on his wrist, 
First meets my eye ; next, virgin Solitode 
Serene, who blushes at each gazer's sight ; 
Then Wisdom's hoary head, with crutch in hand. 
Trembling, and bent with age ; last Virtue's self 
Smiling, m white arrayed, who 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 I deign to be beheld 
In these my midnight-walks ; depart, and say, 
Hiat henceforth I and my Immortal train 
Forsake Britannia's isle ; who fondly stoops 
To Vice, her favourite paramour.*' — She spoke \ 
And as she tum'd, her round and rosy neck. 
Her flowing ti^in, and long ambrosial hair, 
Breathmg rich odours, I enamouHd view. 

O who will bear me then to western climes, 
(Smce Virtue leaves our wretched land) to fields 
Yet unpoUuted with Iberian swords : 
The isles of Innocence, from mortal view 
Deeply retir'd, beneath a ptantane's shade. 
Where Happiness and Quiet sit cnthron'd, 
With simple Indian swains, that I may hunt 
The boar and tiger through savannahs wild^ 
Through fragrantdescrts, and through citrpn groves ? 
There, fed on dates and herbs, would I despise 
The far-fetch'd cates of luxury, and hoards 
Of narrow-hearted avarice j nor heed 
The distant din of the tmnultuous world. 
So when rude whirlwinds rouse the roaring mam. 
Beneath fair Thetis slt9, in coral caves. 
Serenely gay, nor sinking sailors' cries 
Disturb her sportive nymphs, who round her form 
The light fantastic dance, or for her hair. 
Weave rosy crowns, or with according lutes 
Grace the soft warbles of her honied voice. 



FASHION: 

A SATIRE. 

Honestiusputamus, qupd frecjuentius ; recti apui 
DOS locum tenet error, ubi publieus factus. 

Seneca* 
Yaa, yes, my friend, disguiie it as you will, 
To right or wrong 'tis Fashion guides us stUI ; 

c Thus in the Midsummer Night's Dream Shake- 
q>ear puts into the mouth of the Fairy : 
I must go seek some dew drops here, 
And hang a pearl in eveiy cowsUp^s ear. 
1 * Dixit : et avertens rosed cervice refulsit, 
Ambrosiaeq; comae divinum vertice odorcm 
Spirav6re : pedes vestis defliixit ad imos, 
Et vera incessu patuit Dca. 

Virg. So. 1st. 
M 



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162 



DR. WARTON'S POEMS. 



A few perhaps riic singularly good. 
Defy and stem Uie fool-o'emheloiing flood ; 
The re6t to wander from tl>eir brethrea fear, 
As social herrings in large shoals appear. 

Twas not a taste, tmt powerful mode, that bade 
Yon' purblind, poking peer run picture mad ; 
With the same wonder-gaping face he stares 
On flat Dutch daubing, as on Guido's airs j 
What might bis oak-cruwn'd manors mortgaged gain? 
Alas ! five faded landscapes of Loraine i. 

Not so Gargiliuk—sleek, voluptuous lord, 
A hundred dainties smoke upon his board ; 
Earth, air, and ocean 's rarjsackM for the feast. 
In masquerade of foreign olios dress'd ; 
Who praises, in this sauce-enamour 'd age. 
Calm, healthful temperance, like an Indian sage : 
But could be walk in public, were it said, 
•* Oargilius din'd on beef, and eat brown bread V 
Happy the grotto'd hermit with his pulse, 
Who want* no truflftes, rich ragouts — nor Hulse ». 

How strict on Sundays gay Ijetitia's face ! 
How curPd her hair, how clean her Brussels lace ! 
She lifts her eyes, her sparkling eyes to Heav'n, 
Most nbn-like mourns, and hopes to be fbrgiT'o. 
Think not she prays, or is grown penitentr— 
She went to church — because the paHsh went 

Close Chremes, deaf to the pale widow's grief, 
ParU with an unsunn'd guinea for relief; 
No meltings o*er his ruthless bosom steal, 
More tlian fierce Arabs, or proud tyranU feel ; 
Yet, since his ue.gh hours give, the churl unlocks. 
Damning the poor, his triple-bolted box. 

Why loves not Hippta rank obscenity ? 
Why would she not with twenty porters lie ? 
Why not in crowded Malls quite naked walk } 
Not aw*d by nrtue — but ** The world would talk." — 
Yet how demurely looks the wi^htnir maid. 
For ever, but in bed, of man afraid T 
Thus Hammon's sprii^ ^ by day feels icy-cool. 
At night is hot as Heirs sulphureous pool. 

Each panting warble of Vesconti's throat,' 
Td Dick, is heav'niier than a seraph's note j 
The trills, he swears, sofWtealing to his brnst. 
Ace lullabies, to sooth bis cares to rest ; 
Are sweeter far, than Laura's luscious kiss. 
Charm the whole man, and lap his soul in bliss : 
Who can such counterfeited raptures bear. 
Of a deaf fool who scarce can thunders hear ? 
Crowdero might with him for Pestin pass. 
And touching Handel yield to trifling Hasse. 

But eoid-fac'd Curio comes I all prate, and smile. 
Supreme of beaux, great bcdwark of our isle ! 
Mark well bis fieather'd hat, hit gilt cockade, 
Bich rings, white hand, and coat of stiff brocade ; 
Such weak-wing'd May-flies Britain'stroopsdisgrace, 
That Vlandria, wond'ring, mourns our altered hm 5 
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 ont the day, 
With wooden swords, or toothless puppies play r 
>Ti8 meaner (cries the manling) to command 
A conquering host, or save a staking land, 

I Claude Loraine. 

t Sir Edwaid Hulse^ the physician. 

a Lttcretiusy lib. vi. 84&.^ 



Tluui fiiri fair Flavia's fkn, or lead a dance, 

Or broach new-minted fashions fresh from France. 

Prance, whose edicts govern dress and oaest, 
Thy victor Britain bends beneath thy feet ! 
Strange! that pert grasshoppers should lions lead, 
And teach to bop» and chirp across the mead : 
Of flceU and laureli'd cbiefii let others bosst, 
Thy honours are to bow, dance, boil, and rosst. 
Let Italy give mimic canvas fire. 
Carve rock to life, or tune the lulling lyre ; 
For gold let rich Potosi be renown'd. 
Be balmy-breathing gums in India found : 
Tis thine for sleeves to teach the shantiest euti, 
GivQ empty coxcombs more important struts, 
Prescribe new rules for knots, hoepa, manteau9,wig% 
Shoes, soups, complexions, coaches, farces, jigs. 

Muscalia dreams of last night's ball till ten, 
Drinks chocolate, strokes Fop, and sleeps again ; 
Perhaps at twelve dares ope her drowsy eyes, 
Asks Lucy if 'tis late enough to rise ; 
By three each curl and feature justly set. 
She dines, talks scandal, visits, plays piquette : 
Meanwhile her babes with some foul nune lemsin, 
For modem dames a mother's cares disdain ; 
Bach fortnight once she bears to see the brats, 
'* For oh, they stun one's ears, like squallmg cats!** 
Tigers and pards protect, and nune 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 Heaves, 
To whom were tears, and feeling pity giv*n» 
Most fashionably cruel, less regard 
Her ofbpring, than the vulture, snake, and pard ? 

What art, O Fashion, pow'r supreme below I 
You make us virtue, nature, sense, forego ; 
You sanctify knave, atheist, whore, and fool. 
And shield from justice, shame, and isdteole. 
Our grandames modes, long absent from oar eyes, 
At your alUpowerful Udding duteous rise ; 
As Arethusa sunk beneath tiie plain 
For many a league, emerging flows again ; 
Now Mary's itiobe \ and flounces yon approve, 
Now shape-disguising sacks, and slippers fove : 
Scarce have you chose (like Fortune fbnd to joke) 
Some reigning dress, but you the choice revoke : 
So when the deep-toognM organ's notes swell high. 
And kMid bosaimahs reach the distant sky, 
Hark, how at once the dying strains decay. 
And soften unexpectedly away. 
The peer, |Jnnoe, peasaiBt, soldier, squire, dhiae. 
Goddess of change, bend fosr before your shrine. 
Swearing to folkm, wheresoever you lead. 
Though you eat toads or walk upon your head. 

Tis hence belles game, intrigue, sip dtron-dram, 
And hide tbeir lovely locks with heads of rams ^ : 
Hence girls, once modest, without Uush appear, 
With legs display'd, and swan-soft bosoms bare ; 
Hence stale, autuomal dames, stiH deck'd with 



Look like vile canker'd coins in velvet cases . 

Ask you, why whores live more bekpr*d than wives, 

Why weeping virtue exil'd, flattery thrives. 



4 Mary Queen of Soots mobs, mnoh won by the 
ladies. 
* Tete de moutoo, literUly tramlafeed. 



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ON A BUTTERFLY. 



l£3 



Why, iB»i hr ^enioai, Britons young and oU 
Jukit base niDisten, thote calves of gold, 
Why witling templars on religion joke, 
Pst, rosy jttiitices, dVink, doce, and smoke, 
Dall critics on. best bards poor harmless spite. 
As babes that momble coral, cannot bite, 
^^liy kaavf* marieions, brother-knaves embrace, 
With hearts at gall, but couTtly smiling face. 
Why scornful Polly from her gaudy coach. 
At ftanrtng houseless Virtue points reproach. 
Why Av'rioe is the great all-worshipp'd god } 
Mcthinksaome demon answers — '< Tn the mode!" 

At this Corraptkn smiles with ghastly grin, 
Presaging triumphs to her mother. Sin ; 
Who, as with banefiil wings isloft she flies, 
" This fidling land be mine !'*— exulting cries $ 
Orini Tjrranny attends her on her way. 
And frowna, and whets his sword that thirsts to slaf. 

Look firom the frigid to the torod zone, 
By costoos all are led, by nature none. 
The hnngry Tartar rides upon his meat ^ 
To cook the dainty flesh with buttocks* heat ; 
Hm Chinese complaisantly takes his bed 
With hia -big wife, and is with candle fed. 
Hov woqM onr tender British beauties shriek. 
To see slim beaox on bulls their lances break ! 
Tct no Locinda, in heroic Spain, 
Adnito a youth, but who his beast has dain. 
See, woDd'roos lands, where the fell victoir brings 
To his glad wives, the heads of t laoghter>d kings, 
Hit mangled beads I— o'er which they sing aiid 



Not Judah*s king in eastern pomp array'd. 
Whose cbarmi alluHd iTt>m fer the Sheban maid. 
High on his glittering throne, like yon could shina 
(Nature's completest miniature divine) : 
For tliee the rose her balmy buds renews. 
And silver lillies ftll their cups with dews ; 
Flora for thee the laughing fields perfumes. 
For thee Pomona sheds Iter choicest blooms. 
Soft 2Sephyr wafts thee on his gentlest gales 
O'er Hackwood's sunny hiUs and verdant vales ; 
For thee, gay queen oif insccu ! do we rove 
From walk to walk, from beauteous grove to grove; 
And let the critics know, whose pedant pride 
And awkward jests our sprightly sport deride : 
That all who honours, feme, or wealth pursue. 
Change but the name of thing»-4faey hunt for yo . 



And in dire haiM|iie«s the warn hfe-bkiod quaff; 
Where yoQtfas their grandsiras, ago-bent, trembling, 

^. . f^y* 

Fityiag their weary wcakaeti, kindly slay ; 
Where nioted Brachmans, sick of life, retire, 
Tbdie spontaneons on the spicy pyre ; 
Where (stnnger still! ) with their wiM dates content, 
Iks simple swains no sighs for goM torment. 

How fondly partial are onr jadgments grown. 
We deeoB all naraiers odious but onr own ! 

O teach me, IHend, to know wise Nature^ rules, 
Aad langfa, like yon, at Fashion's hoodwinkM fools; 
Yon, who to woods removM from modish sm, 
Despise the astant worid's hoarse, busy dm : 
As dwpherds firom hi^ rocks hear for below, 
Bear unooucem'd food torrents fiercely flow ; 
Tsa,thoii^ mad millions the mean taste u] 
Who still love Vnrtne, feir, forsaken maid } 
As Baechos channiBg Ariadne bore, 
^y aB abendoofd, from the lonesome shore. 



VERSES 

ON A BUTTERFLY. 

Pill dM off Son and Smmner t we behold 
Wilh eager eyes thy wings bedropp>d with gold j 
The people spots that o'er thy mantle spread. 
The sspi^re's lively blue, the mby's red, 
Tenthonsaad various blended tints surprise, 
Beyood tiie rainbow's hues or peacock's eyes : 

* 'n>< fol lowring fects are takee from the aecomita 
•( diflRCDt oonntrieeu 



ODE TO FASCY. 

O PARBNT of each lovely Muse, 
Thy spirit o'er my soul diffuse. 
O'er all my artless songs preside. 
My footsteps to thy temple guide. 
To offer at thy tuxf-built shrine, 
I In golden cope no costly wine, 
, No murder'd fetUng of the flock, 
' But flowers and honey from the rock. 
O nymph with loosely-flowing hair, 
'With httskin'd leg, and bosom bare, 
I Thy waist with myrtle-girdle bound, 
' Thy brows with Indian feathers crown'd. 
Waving in thy snowy hand 
An all-commanding magic wand. 
Of pow*r to bid fresh gardens blow, 
'Mid cheerieas Lapland's barren snow, 
i MThose rapid wings thy flight convey 
I Thn/ air, and over earth and sea, 
I While the vast various landscape lies 
' Ooeispiciioos to thy piercing eyes. 
O lover of the desert, hail ! 
Say, in what deep and pathless vale, 
{ Or on what hoary mountain's side, 
I 'Mid fell of waters, you reside, 
! 'Mid broken rocks, a rugged scene. 
With green and grassy dales between. 
Mid foresto dark of aged oak ' , 
Ne'er echoing with the woodman's stroke. 
Where never human art appear'd. 
Nor ev*n one straw-rooTd oot was rear'd. 
Where Nature seems to sit alone, 
Muestic on a craggy throne ; 
Tell me the path, sweet wand'rer, tell-. 
To thy unknown sequester'd cell, 
I Where woodbines cluster round the door. 



Where shells and' moos o'eriay the floor. 
And on whose top an hawthorn bkyws. 
Amid whose thtekly-woven boughs 
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 njmiphs to daunt. 
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt 

II PtKeaaoso. 



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t€4 



DR.IVAIWON'S POEMS. 



Tben Uy bm by the bnunied ^ttmm. 
Rapt in tfome wild, poetic Cretin, 
I9 coiiv«Ke while nMtbink* I rove 
With Spenser tbrougk a fmiry grove ;• 
Till, suddenly awak'd, I bear < 
Stmge whisper'd auiic in my ear, 
AoA my glad soul ia bfias ia drown'4 
By the sweeUy-ioothiBg toand ! 
Me, goddcfc, by the right hand lead. 
Soroetimes through the yellow mead. 
Where Joy aad wbite-roiM Peace geaart, 
4wl Venue keeps her festive oourt, 
Where Mirth and Youth each eveaing meet. 
And liglaly trip with nimbfe feet» 
Noddii^ their lily-crowned heada* 
Where Laughter raae-lip'd Hebe leada^ 
Where Echo walks steep hiHs among, 
listening to the shepherd's son^ i 
Yet not these flowery fields of joy 
Can long my pensive mind employ. 
Haste, Fkncy, from the scenes of folly. 
To meet the matron Melancholy, 
Goddess of the tearful eye. 
That loves to fold her arms, and sigli ; 
Let us with silent footsteps go 
To ch^mels and the boose of woe. 
To Gothic churches, vaults, and tombf , 
Where each sad mfjhA some virgm comes. 
With throbbing breast, and faded cheA, 
Her promised bridegroom*!! urn to seek ; 
Or to some abbey's ]ii6old*Ting tow'rB, 
Where, to avoid ceM wbitiy show'Ts, 
The naked begg*r shivering lies 3 ,' 
While whistling tempests round her rise. 
And tiembks legt tSw tottering wdl 
Should on her sleeping ioflknts fall. 
Now let us louder Arike the lyr^. 
For my beait glows with mailial fire, 
I feel, I fieel, with sadden beat. 
My big tnmultnoos bosom beat; 
^ The trumpet's clangours pierce my tat, 
^ A ibottsand widows' shrieks I iMar, 
Give me another horse, I cry, 
lio! the base Gallic squadrons fly ; 
Whence is this rage ?— what spirit, sky 
To battle hurries me away ? 
nis Fancy, in ber fiery car. 
Transports me to the thieicest war, ^ 
There whirU me o^er the hills of slam. 
Where Tumult and Dertructkm reign ; 
VTheie mad wiA pahi, the wounded steetf 
Tramples the dy'mg and tlie dad $ 
Where giaat 'TerrMr sMo araand. 
With sullen joy sarveys the ground. 
And, pointing to th* eaaangainM field. 
Shakes Us diftadfol gorgon ihMd ! 
O guide me from this horrid aoene, 
. To high-arehM walks and aHeysgreeov 
Which lovely Laura seeks, to tfhun 
The fiervours of the mid-day sons 



s And as I widm, sweetmsie bvaatha 
Above, about, or underneath. 
Sent by some spirit to mortals good. 
Or th' unseen genius of the wooil 

II PsltSEItOJO. 

^this is not eidy aa original, bat «%»dcrfuUy 
poetical idea. 



The pangs of s fcs tMi i , O 1 tmmn ? 
For thou caort place me near wbj bve^ 
Canst fold in visioaary blisa. 
And let me tbink I steal a kies, 
l^liils iier raby Kps dispense 
Luscious nectar's qaintessenoe ! 
Wbea yoang^yed Spring profusely tbiena 
From ber green lap the pmk and nm^ 
When the soft tnrtie of the dale 
To Summer tells her leader tale. 
When Autumn cooliag caverns aeeki. 
And stains with w'me his jolly cheeks % 
When Winter, like poor pilgrim old. 
Shakes his silver beard with cold ; 
At every season let my ear 
Thy eolemn whispers, Faney, bear. 
O warm, enthusiastic maid. 
Without thy poweHal, vital aid. 
That breathes aB.eBergy divme, 
That gives a aoul to every fine. 
Ne'er may I strive with lips profona 
To utier aa uitfiallow'd straia. 
Nor dare te teuoh the aaerad eirlag. 
Save when with saales tboa bid'st ma sipf ^ 
O hear our prayer, O kither ceme 
From thy laaMoted Shakespeare i 
On which thou lov*st to eit at ave^ 
Muting o^er thy dariiag's gvave $ 
O ^ueen of aumhers, oaea again 
Animate aoaM chosen swain, 
Who, fiird with aneahaaatod fiM^ 
May boldly smite the sounding Ijrre^ 
Who with seoM aaw aoefualFd aeig. 
May rise above the rl^aMng tt i'aa g» 
O'er all our listening passions reign, 
Overwhelm our eoult with joy aad pam^ 
With Urraiirth4be; aad pity iaava. 
Rouse with revenge, or aaall antb iaaa^ 
O deiga V attead his evening walk. 
With bim in proves aod #rattoB talk | 
Teaoh him te sooni wiHi frigid att 
Feebly to te«<A th' aaraptaHd kaaat ^ 
take ligktmo^, let his aaigbty wsMft 
The beaoaa's inmnst foldiags pieroe ^ 
With oative beauties wit applaana 
Beyond eold eriCies' atadied kwrs } 
O let each H iai tf s fame tacreafe, 
O bid Britawaa rival r 



ODE TO HEALTH. 

warma ox a bicovbrt fBOM tb« SMAit-rox. 

O wuBTBEt with faborions clowns 

In meads and woods thou lov'at to dweD, 
In noisy met chant-crowded towns. 
Or in the tenv«nte Bradunan'e ^oett g 
Who from the meads of Ganges' fruitful flWf 
Wet with sweet dews cdleots hi»ilonreEy food ; 
In Bath or in Bfontpellieve plsn^ 

Or rieb Banaad's balmy isK 
Or tbeeiddNoith^ wbeie lur^oM fwaat 
Ne*er saw the purple autumn smile, 
Wba aver Alpaafaww, aad i aa trta f" 
By twinklmg star-light drive tlN r ' 



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ODE TO SUPEHSTinON. 



l6d 



lofely queen of -niith aod ease, 

HlxNii absent, beauty, banquets, wine, 
Va, musie, pomp, nor sdenoe please, 
And kings on ivory couches pine, 
Kature's kind nurse, tp whom by gracious Heaven , 
To tooUi die pangs of toilsome fife *Us gtv^n > 
To aid a laf^gukl wretcli, repair. 

Let pak-ey'd Gfief thy preseoce fly, 
Tbe restlcn demoo, gloomy Care, 
Aod mea^Te Meiauclioly, die ; 
Drive to Eome lonely rock tbe giant Psin, 
And biorf him howling with a triple chain ! 

CQMM, rciUira my aking sight 9 
Yellet me not OD Laura gnze. 
Soon most I quit that dear delight, 
0'er.power*d by Beanty^ piercing rays ; 
fktppoit my feeble feet, and largely shed 
Tbf oU of gbdoem o« my faiotiDg bead. 
How neArijr had my ^irit past, 

TiH stopt by Meiealfs skilful hand. 
To JDeath's dark regions vide and waste. 
And tbe black liver's mournful strand ; 
Or to t&ose Talcs of joy, and meadows blest. 
Where isgei, heroes, patriots, poets rest ; 

Where Maro and Mdmris sit 

List*ning to Milton's lofHcr mag, 
YTnh mend silent wonder emit > 
While, monandi ef the tenefixl thfwng. 
Homer m raptuf* thrawv his trumpet doarn, 
Aod to the Briton giyes his amaFantblne erown. 



ODE TO SVPERSTlTlOIf. 

Htirca to some convent's gloomy isles, 

Whsre dieerlul daylight never smiles : 
Tjnot 1 from Albi<» haste, to slavish Borne, 

Thoe l^ dim taper's livid light. 

At the ftiU aoYemn hours of night, 
b pcoKve musings walk o'er many a sounding tomb. 

Thy danking ehaine, thy erimma steel, 

IhyvMovM darts, and barbarous wheel, 
Mslipaant fiend, bear from this isle aswy» 

Nor dare in erronr'f fitters bind 

One active, freebore, Britiah mind ; iM^ay. 

Ihst strongly strima to spring in^aant frem thy 

Thon bad^ grim Moloch's frowning priest 

Staateh screaming hi&nts fToi|i the breast, 
Kegudlem of the frantic mother's woes ; 

ThM led'st the nifhlem SOBS of Spain 

To wond'riiq; fndis's goMen plain. 
From dehigea of blood where tenlbkl harvests rose. 

Bat lo ! how swiftly art thou fled. 
When BeasoQ lifts his radiant head ; 

When lus msoifhding, awful voice they bejir. 
Bind Ignorance, thy dotiiig sire. 
Thy daughter, trembling Fear, retire ; 

And an ^ ghastly train of terronrs disappear. 
So by the Magi bail'd ffcm fhr. 
When Phobos mounts hie aai ly ear, 

Theshri^mg ghosU to their dath ebnmels flock ; 
TIk fhll-gDrg'd wolves fobreat ; no more 
The prowlbg lionesses roar, [rock. 

lit hmtcnwith their iwy tD«ome deep-cavem'd 



Hart then, ye friends of Reason hail, 

Ye foes to' Mystery's odious veil. 
To Truth's high temple guide my steps aright, 

WItere Clark and WQllaston reside, 
. With Locke and Newton by their side. 
While Plato sits above eothron'd in eivUess Ught 



ODE 
TO A GENTLBMAN O^ R«B TttAVECS. 

While I with fond oflTicious care 
Fur you my chorded shell prepare. 
And not unmindful frame an humble lay. 
Where shall this verse my Cynthio find ? 
What scfae of ait now charms your mind. 
Say on what sacretl spot of Roman ground you stray? 
Perhaps you'cuH eoch^vaUeys Ueom, 
To strew o^er Virgil's laurell'd tomb, 
Whence <oft at midnigbt echoing voices saund ; 
For at tbe hour of silence, there 
The shades of aaoient bards sepair. 
To join in choial son^ his haH<lwM um aramid : 
Or wand^ in ttie cooling shade 
Of Sabine bow'rs, where Horace stray'd. 
And oft repest in eager thought elate, 
(As round in cfft^ic search you traee 
With cnriWB eye tbe pleasing place) [mle.'* 
"That fount helov'd,aad there beneath thM hiUbe 
How longs my faptuf»d breast with yo« 
Great Raphael'^ ittagfc strokes to vWw, 
To whose blest faslnd each charm the Gtaces gave! 
Whence each fair form with beaaty glows 
I jke that of Venus, when she rosie 
Naked in blxishing charms from Ocean's Hoary wate* 
As oft by roving fancy led 
To smooth Clitumnus' banks you tread, ' 
What awfal thoughts his fabled waters raise ! 
While the low-thougbted swatn, whose flock 
Grazes around, from some steepr rock 
With vulgar disregard his mazy course surveys. 
Now tbro^ the ruin'd domes my Muse 
Your steps with eager flight pursues, 
That their cleft piles on Tyber's plains present. 
Among whose hollow-winding cells 
Forlorn and wild Rome's genius dwells. 
His golden sceptre broke, and purple mantle rent 
Oft tQ those mossy monld'ring walls. 
Those caverns dark and silent halls. 
Let me repair by midnight's paly fires ; 
There muse on empire's fallen state, 
And frail ambition's hapless fiste, [inspiredL 
While more than mortal thoughts the solemn scene 
What Inst of pow'r from the oold north 
amid tempt thoee Vandal-nobbers forth. 
Fair Italy, thy vine-clad vales to wasltf ; 
Whose hands profane, with hostile blade. 
Thy stor^'d temples dar'd invade. 
And all thy Parian seats of Attic art defac'd ; 
They weeping Aft in fetters bound. 
And goed her breast with many a wound. 
And veil'd her ehnrms in clovde of thioheft night ; 
Sad Poesy, much-injur'd maid. 
They drove tesema dim eoo^ent's shnd6,IKght. 
Afid queuch'd in gloomy mist her lamp's resplendent 



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DR. WARTOIfS POEMS. 



There long the wept, to darkneis doom'd» 
Till Goemo's hand her light relttmM, 
TbM ODce Rgirin in lufty TaMO shone ; 
Since has fweet Spenser caught her fire. 
She breathed once more in Milton's lyre, [soil 

And warm'd the soul divine of Shakespear, Fancy's 
Nor she, mild aneen, will cease to smile 
On her Britannia*s mach-IOT'd isle, [bom, 
Where these, her best her fSavonrita Three were 
While Theron > warbles Grecian strain^ 
Or polish'd Doddingtmi remains, 

The drooping traio of arts to cherish and adorn. 



ODE TO LIBERTY, 

O ooDDats, on whose steps attend* 

Pleasure and laughter^loving Health, 

White-mantled Peace, with oliye-wand. 

Young Joy, and diamond-sceptred Wealthy 

Blithe Plenty, with her loaded horn. 

With Science, bright-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 fair, 

May thy best blessings ever last ! 

For thee the pining prisoner mourns, 

DeprivVl of food, of mirth, of light ; 

For th^ pale slaves to gallies chained 

That ply tough oars from mora to night ; 

Thee the proud sultan's beauteous train 

By eunuchs guarded, weep in vain. 

Tearing the roses from their locks ; 

And Guinea's captive kings lament. 

By christian lords to labour sent, 

Whipt like the dull, unfeeling ox. 

Inspir'd by thee, deaf to fond nature's cries. 

Stem Brutus, when Rome's genius loudly call'd. 

Gave her the matchless fiCal sacriGce, 

Unable to behold her power enthralPd ! 

And he of later age, but equal feme, 

Dar*d stab the tyrant though he lov'd the firiend ; 

H9W burnt the Spartan * with warm patriot flame. 

In thy great cause his valorous life to end ! 

How burst GustovQS from the Swedish mine ! 

Like light from chaos dark, eternally to shine. 

When Heav'n to all thy joys bestows , 

And graves upon our hearts — be free I — 

Shall coward man those joys resign. 

And dare reverse this great decree i 

Submit him to some idul king. 

Some selfish, passion-guided thing. 

Abhorring man, by man abhorr'd. 

Around whose throne stands trembling Doubt, 

Whose jeahms eyes still roll about. 

And Murder^with his reeking iword ? 

Wheiv trampling Tyranny with Fate, 

And black Revenge gigantic goes ; 

Hark, how the dying infents shriek. 

How hopeless age is sunk in woes ! 

Fly, mortals, fnm that feded land. 

Though rivers roll o'er goklen mod, 

I The author of the Pleasares of bnaginatioa. 



Though birds in fthades of casma ring. 
Harvests and (ruits spootaneoqs rise 
No storms disturb the smiling skies. 
And each soft breeze rich odoors bring. 
Britannia watch f — ^remember peerless Rome, 
Her high-tower'd head da8|i'd meanly to the gronnd; 
Remember, freedom's guardian, Greda's doom, 
Whom weeping the despotic Ttark has bouod ; 
May ne'er thy oak-erown'd hills, rich meads and 
(Fame, virtue, courage, property, forgot) [doiro. 
Thy peaceful villages, and busy towns. 
Be doom'd some death-dispensing tyrant's lot; 
On deep foundations may thy fireedom stand, 
Ung as the surge shaU lash thy fle^-endrcled laad. 



ODE AGAINST DESPAIR. 

FxtBWBr.t thou dimpled cherab, Jbj, 

Thou rose-crown'd ever-smiling boy. 

Wont thy sister Hope to lead. 

To dance along the primrofae mead ! 

No 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, Dopair ; 

Who, on that ivy^arken'd ground. 

Still takes at eve his silent round. 

Or sits yen new-made grave besida, 

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 daiQger, haste. 
To pierce this sorrow-laden breast ! 
Or lead me, 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, faltVing words to hear V* 

•Twas thus, with weight of woes opprast, 
I sought to ease my braised breast : 
When straight more gloomy grew the Bhade^ 
And lo ! a tall majestic maid ! 
Her limbs, not delicately fair. 
Robust, and of a martial air ; 
She bore of steel a pelish'd shield. 
Where higbly-aculptar'd I beheld 
Th' Athenian martyr » smiling stand. 
The baleful goblet hi bis hand ; 
Sparkled her eyes with lively flame. 
And Patience was tbe seraph's nama f 

Sfemly she look'd, and stem began 

" Thy sorrows cease, complaining man. 
Rouse thy weak soul, appease thy moan. 
Soon are the clouds of sadness gone ; 
Tho' now in Grief's dark groves you walk. 
Where gricsly fiends around yon stalk. 
Beyond, a blissful city lies. 
Far from whose gates each anguish flies z 
Take thou this shield, which once of yom 
Ulysses and Alcides wore, 
And which in later days I gave 
To Regulusaod Raleigh brave, 

«$ocrat^. 



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ODE ON SHOOTING ... TO CONTENT. , 



16/ 



In odlc or in tlongeoo clrear 
Their mij^ty itiinds could Banish frar ; 
Thy heart no tenfold woes shall feel, 
Twa* Virtue tempered the rotigh 8U«l, 
And, bv her heaVenly fiiigew wrought, 
To me'tbe precious present brotaght." 



ODE Olf SHOOTING. 

Nymius of the forests, that young oaks protect 
From noxious hla»t.s, and the blue thunder's dart, 
O how $enarely might ye dwell 
In Britain's peaceful shades. 
Far ftnm grim woWes, or tigers* midnijfht roar. 
Or crimson crested serpents' hunpry hiss, 
Bot that our savage swains pollute 
With murder your retreats ! 
How oft your birds have undeserving bled, 
Uooet, or wart>ling thrush, or moaning dov€, 
Pheasant with gaily-gUstcring wings, 
Or early-mounting lark ! 
While in sweet converse in a round you sit 
On the green turf, or in the wowlbine-bower, 
If chance the thund'ring gun be heard. 
To grots and caves ye run. 
Fearful as when Txxlona fled fr.m Pan, 
Or Daphne panting from enamour'd So!, 
Or ^r Sabrina to the flood 
Her snowy beauties gave : 
When will dread man his tyrannies forego, 
Ulien cease to bathe his barbarous hands m Mood, 
His sutjects helpless, harmless, weak, 
Delisting to destroy ? 
More pleasant far to shield their tender young 
From churlish swains, that violate their nests. 
And, wandering, mom or eve to hear 
Their welcome to the Spring. 



TO A FOUSTAIff. 

tMrrATin FaoM hoeace, ode xiii. book hi, 

Yb waves, that gnshing fall with purest stream, 
Blaodos'ian ft»nnt ! to whom the producto sweet 

Of richest wines belong, 

And fairest flowers of .Spring ; 
To thee^ a chosen victim will I slay, 
A kid. who glowing in lascivious youth 

Just blooms with budding horn. 

And with vain thought elate 
YetdesUnes future war : but ah ! txx) soon 
His reddng Mood with crimson shall enrich 

Thy pure translucent flood. 

And tiogo thy crysUl clear 
Thy sveet recess the Sun in mid-day hour 
Can Bc»er rovade, thy streams the labourd ox 

Rtifiesh with cooling d. aught. 

And glad the wandering herds. 
ThT Bsme shall shrae with endless hooonrs grac d, 
While on my shell I sing the nodding oak. 

That t/er thy cavern deep 

Waves bis embowering head. 



ODE TO EVESISG. 



Hail, tneek-ev'd maiden, clad m sober grey. 
Whose wft approach the weary woodman love* 
A.S homewaid bent to kiss his prattling babes. 
He jocund whistles thro' the twilight groves. 
\ITien Ph«Bbus ?inks beneath the gildeil hills, 
You lightly o'er the m-sty meadows walk. 
The drooping daisies bathe in dnlcet dews. 
And nurse the nodding violet's slender stelk : 
The panting Dryads, that in dny's tierce heat 
To inmost bowers and cooling caverns ran, 
Return to trip in wanton evening dance, 
Old Sylvan too returns, and laitghing Pan. 
To the deep wood the clamorous rooks repair, 
Light skims the swallow o'er the^^*'7 «^» ... 
AiKl from the sheep-cotes and fresh-furrow'd field. 
Stout ploughmen meet to wrestle on the green. 
The swain that artli^s sings on yonder rock, 
His nihblmg sheep and length'ning shadow spies, 
Pleas'd with the cool, the calm, refreshful hour. 
And with hoarse hummings of unnumber d flies. 
Now every pateion sleeps ; desponding love, 
And pining envy, ever-restless pf'oe i 
An holy calm cr^ps 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 tram, 
List'ning to every wildly-warblmg throat 
That fills with farewell notes the dark'mng plam. 



ODE TO CONTEST. 

Wblcome Content ! from roofc rf fretted gold, 
Fiom Persian s«>fas, and the gems of lod. 

From courts, and camps, and crowds. 

Fled to my cottage Aiean ! 
Meek virgin, wilt thou deign with me to sit 
In pensive pleasure by my glimmertog fire. 

And with calm smile despue 

Jbe loud world's distant din i 
As from the piny mountain's topmost cliff 
Some wandering hermit sage hears unconcern d, 
, Far in the vale below, 

The thund'ring torrent hurst 1 
Teach me, good Heaven, the gilded chains of >vica 
To break, to study independent ease, 

Pride, Pomp, and Power to shun, 

Those fatal syrens fair, 
That, rob'd like Eastern queens, sit on high thrones 
And,'bcckoning every thirsty txaveller, 

Their baleful cups present 

With pleasing poisons fraught 
O let me dwell in life's low valley, blest 
With the dearnymph I love, tnie, heart felt joy. 

With chosen firiends to turn 

Thepolish'd Attic page; . 
Nor seldom, if not fortune damp my wings. 
Nor dire disease, to soar to Pindu:.* bill. 

My hours, my soul devote. 

To poesy and loTC I 



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Ms 



DR. WARTON'S POEMS. 



TO THE NIGHTINGALE. 
O THOU, tfaat to the mooD-llgfat vaJe 
Warblestoft thy plaintive tale. 
What time the viilagO'-miirmars cease» 
And the still eye is htish'd to peaoe. 
When now no busy sound is beard. 
Contemplation's favoinite bird ! 
Chauntres^ of night, whose amoroos sooy 
(Fint heard the tufted groves among) 
Warns vantcni Mabba to begin 
Her revels on the circled green. 
Whenever by meditation led 
I nightly seek some distant mead, 
A short repose of cares to find> 
And sooth my love-distracted mind, 
O fail not then, sweet Philomel; 
Thy sadly-warbled woes to tell; 
In sympathetic numbers join 
Thy pangs of luckless love with mine I 
So may no swain's rude hand infest 
Thy tender young, and rob thy nest ; 
Kor ruthless fowler's guileful snare 
Lure thee to leave the fields of air. 
No more to visit vale or shade. 
Some barbarous virgin's captive made. 



ODE 

TO A LADY ON THE SPRING. 

Lo ! Spring, array'd in primrose-colour'd robe. 

Fresh beauties sheds on each enliven'd scene, 

IVith show'rs and sunshine cheers the smiling globe. 

And mantles hill and-vale in glowing green. 

AU nature feels her vital htat around, 

The pregnant glebe now bursts with foodful gfttin, 

With kindly warmth she opes the ftosen ground. 

And with new life informs the teeming plain. 

She calls the fish from out their ouzy beds, 

And animates the deep with genial love, 

She bids the herds bound sportive o'er the meads. 

And with glad sofags awakes the joyous grov«. 

No more the glaring tiger roams for prey. 

All-powerful love subdues his savage souj. 

To find his spotted mate he darts away. 

While gentler thoughts the thirst of blood controul. 

But ah ! while all is warmth and soft desire, 

While all around Spring's cheerful spirit own. 

You feel not, Amoret, her quickening fire, 

To Spring's kind influence you a ibe alone ! 



ODE 
TO A LADY WHO HATES THE COUNTRY. 

Now Summer, daughter of the Son, 
O'er the gay fields comes dancing on. 

And earth o'ertows with joys ; 
Too long in roots and drawing-rooms 
The tasteless hours my ikir consumei, 

>Midst fikUy, fiattery, Aoigt. 



Come, bear mild Zephyr bid the nM 
Her balmy-breathiog buds disckise, 

Come, hear the falling rill. 
Observe the honey-loaded bee. 
The beech embowered cottage see^ 

Beside yoo sloping bill. 

By health awoke at early mom, 

We'll brush «weet dews ftwa every tfaoni, 

Anc^help unpen the fold ; 
Hence to yon hollow oak we'll stray. 
Where dwelt, as villago-fcbles say. 

An holy Druid old. 

Come, wildly rove thro' desert dales. 
To listen how lone nightingales 

In liquid lays complam ; 
Adieu the tender, thrilling note 
That pants in Monticelli's throat. 

And Handel's stronger strain. 

" Insipid pleasures these !" you eiy; 
'* Must I from dear assemblies fly. 

To see rude peasants toil ? 
For operas listen to a bird > 
Shall Sydney's ftdiles be preferr'd i 

To my sagacious Hoyle » ?" 

O felsely fond of what seems great. 
Of purple pomp, and robes of state. 

And all life's tinsel glare ! 
Rather with humble violets bind. 
Or give to wanton in the wind. 

Your length of sable hair. 

Soon as yon reach the rural shade. 

Will Mirth, the tptif^^y mountetf|.m«d. 

Your day« and nights attend. 
She'll bring fantastic Sport and Song, 
Nor Cupid will be absent long. 

Your trae ally and friend. 



ODE 

TO SOLITUDE, 

Thou, that at deep dead of night 

Walk'st forth beneath the pale Moon'f light 

In robe of flowing black arrayed, ' 

While cypress-leaves thy brows o'erahade: 

List'ning to the crowing cock. 

And the distant sounding clock ; 

Or, sitting in thy cavern low. 

Dost hear the bleak winds loudly blow. 

Or the hoarse death-boding owl, 

Or village mastiflF's wakeful howl. 

While through thy melancholy room 

A dim lamp casts an awful gloom ; 

Thou, th^t on the meadow green 

Or daisy'd upland art not seen» 

But wand'ring by the dusky nooks^ 

And the pensive fiUling brooks, 

1 Arcadia. 

« Alludmg to thoM ladiet iriw hirav left their 
Hqyle'febookoDWliiit • j *«i 



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STANZAS AFTER A LONG ILLNESS. 



1(9 



Or oar nme ragged, heibkas rock. 
Where no ibepheid keeps h» flock ! 
Miniog maid, to thee I come, 
llaiiog ibi tradeful city's bum : 
kt me calmly dwell with tbee. 
From noisy inhth and bas'nees free, 
Ulth neditation teek the skies, 
TUs foUy-lietter'd world despise ! 



ODE 

TO MR. WESrr ON HIS TRANSLATION OF 
PINDAK. 

L 1. 

Au»3teinlt! thy sons a voice cUnne have beard, 
Ihe man of Thebes hath in thy vaka appeared !, 
Halt ! with freah rage and tmdimhiisfa'd fire 
He saeet eothusiast smitea the British lyre i ; 
TV sounds that echoed on Alpheus' streams 
Reach the delighted ear of listening Thamea ; 
L» ! swift across the dusty plain 
Great Theron'a foaming coursers strain I 
What mortal tongue e'er roU*d along 
Sach fall impetDons tades of Dtrroos song ? 

I. «. 

nt feafM, fingid lays of cold and creeping art 
Nor touch, nor can transport th> unfeeling hearty 
Pindar, oar inmost hosom piercing, warms 
With ^ory** love, and eager thirst of arms : 
Whea Freedom speaks in his majestic strain. 
The pefriot-paasions beat in every vein : 
UTe k»g to sit with heroes old, 
'3ijd groves of vegetable gold. 
Where Cadmus and Achilles dwelT, 
ind Hin of daring deeds and dangers tell. 

t X 
Aaiy, enervate bards, away. 

Who ^in the coortly, silken lay. 
As wreaths lor some vain liouis* head, 
Or moom toine soft Adonis dead : 
No more your poKshM lyrics boart, 
laMiih Pindar's strength o'erwhelm'd and lost : 
As well nnght ye compare 
The glhnmerings of a waxen flame, 
(Emblem of verse correctly Ume) 
To his own iEtna's sulphur-spouting caves, 
Wkca to Ueav'u*i vault the fiery deluge raves, 
Wha donds and bnming rocks dart thro* the 
tnmbledair. 

ILL 
hraeii^ cataradi down Andes channeH'd ateepa 
Mmk how enomoaa Orellana sweeps ! 
MamuA of mighty floods ! s«premely stnmg, 
fmamg ham diff to cBff he whMs afamg, 
Soda with an hundred bills' collected snows : 
Ihwm OTtr naadeai regkot widely flows, 

1 tel wMi a nmater's hand, and prophet*! fire, 
firack ttn dam aorrovs of hb lyre. 

Giny's Bacd. 



Hound fragrant isles, and citron-groves. 
Where still the naked Indian roves. 
And safety builds his leafy hoWr, 
From slavery far, apd ourst Iberian pow'r j 

If. «. 

So rapid Pindar flows.*-/) parent of the lyre, 
I^et me for ever thy aweet sons admire ; 
O ancient Greece, but chief the bard whose leyv 
The matchless Ule of Troy divine emhlaaej 
And next Euripides, soft Pity's priest. 
Who melts in useful woes the bleeding breast | 
And him, who paints th' incestuous king. 
Whose soul amaze and honour wring ;, 
Teach me to taste their chanm rafin'd. 
The richest banquet of th' ewraptor'd mind: 

11. 3. 

For the blest man, the Muse's child. 
On whose auspicious birth she smil'd. 
Whose soul she form'd of purer fire. 
For whom she tua'd a golden lyre. 
Seeks hot in fighting fields renown : 
No widow's midmght shrieks, nor burning torn. 
The peaceftil poet please ; 
Nor ceaseless toila fbr sordid gains. 
Nor purple pomp, nor wide domains* 
Nor heaps of wealth, nor power, nor stateman'i 
schemes, 
Nor all deoeiv'd ambitioii's feverish dreams, 
Lure his coatrated heart from the sweet vale of aaaa. 



STANZAS 



ON TAKXirO THB AUL AVTBl A tOWi TlXltSit. 

Hail genial Sun ! I feel thy poweiftd ray 
Strike vigforons health into each languid vein ; 
Lo, at thy bright approach, are fled away 
The pale-ey'd sisters. Grief, Disease, and Pah). ' 

O hills, O iorestB,«aind thou painted aMud^ 
Again admit me to your secret seals. 
From the dark bed ef pining sickness freeS, 
With double joy 1 seek yeur green lelmats. 

Yet ODce more, O ye rivers, shall I lie 
In summer evenings on your willow'd banks. 
And, unobserv'd by passing shepherd's eye. 
View the light Naiads trip in wanton radcs. 

Each rural object charms, so long unseen, 
Tho blooming orchards, the white wand'ring flocks. 
The fiekis array'd in sight^refVeshing green. 
And with his loosen'd yoke the wearied ox. 

Here let me stop beneath this spreading bwh. 
While Zephyr's voice I hear the boughs among^ 
And listen to the sweet thSck-warbling thruah. 
Much have I wish'd to hear her venal lOQg, 

The Dryad Health frequents this hallow'd grove ; 

O where nay I the lovely vitgm meet i 

From mom to dewy evening will I rovo 

To find her haunts, and lay an olPfMig at bur leat 



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DR. WARTONS POEMS. 



VERSES: 



Wtrmil AT MOMTAUSAN IM FIUNCI, 1750. 

Tain, how delightful wind thy willowM waves, 
Bat ah ! they fructify a land of slaves ' 
In vain thy bare-foot, sun-hurnt peasants hide 
With luscious grapes yon hill's romantic side ; 
No cups nectareous shall their toil repay, 
The priest's, the soldier's, and the fermier's prey : 
Vain glows this San, in cloudless glory drest, 
That strikes fresh vigour through the pining breast^ 
Give me, beneath a colder, changeful sky. 
My sours best, only pleasure, Liberty! 
What millions perish'd near thy nnoumful flood > 
When the red papal tyrant cry*d out — '< Blood !»» 
Less fierce the Saracen, and quiver'd Moor, 
That dash'd thy infants 'gainst the stones of yore. 
Be wam'd, ye nations round ; and trembling see 
Dire superstition quench humanity I 
By all the chiefs in frpedom's battles lost, 
By wise and virtuous Alfred's awful ghost ; 
By old Galgacos* scythed, iron car. 
That, swiftly wbiriiog through the walks of war, 
Dush'd Roman blood, and crushed the foreign throngs^ 
By holy Druids' courage-breathing songs ; 
1^ fierce Booduca's shield and foammg 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-crown'd plain ! 



THE DYING INDUS. 

Tbb dart of IiEdabel prevails! twasdipt 
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 Ibre&thers feast 
Daily on hearts of Spaniards !— O my son, 
I feel the venom busy in my breast. 
Approach, and bring my crown,deck'd with the teeth 
Of that bold Christian who first dar'd deflow'r 
The virgins of the Sun ; and, dire to tell ! 
Bobb'd Pacbacamac's altar of its gems ! 
I mark'd the spot where they interr'd this traitor. 
And onoe at nudnight stole I tf> his tomb. 
And tore bis carcase from the earth, and left it 
A prey to poisonous flies. Preserve this ciown 
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. 
Cherish her age. Tell her, 1 ne'er have wonhtpp'd 
With those that eat their God. And when disease 
Preys on her languid limbs, then kindly sub her 
Witik thine own hands, nor sofTer her to linger, . 
like Christian cowards, in a life of pain. 
I go ! great Copac beckons me ! Farewell ! 

> Alluding to the persecutions of the Protestants, 
and the wars of the Saracens, carried on in the touth- 
eni provinces of France. 



REVENGE OF AMERICA. 

Whek fierce Pizarro's legions flew 
O'er ravag'd fields of rich Peru, 
Struck with his bleeding people's woes. 
Old India's awful Genius rose. 
He sat on Andes' topmost stone. 
And heard a thousand nations groan ; 
For grief his feathery crown be tore. 
To see huge Plata foam with gore ; 
He broke his arrows, stampt the ground. 
To view his cities smoking round. 

" What woes," he cryd, " hath lust of gold 
O'er my poor country widely roH'd ; 
Plunderers proceed ! my bowels tear. 
But ye shall meet destruction thTe ; 
From the deep-vaulted mine shall ri>e 
Th' insatiate fiend, pale Avarice ! 
Whose steps shall tremblmg Justice fly. 
Peace, Order, Law, and Amity ! 
I see all Europe's children curst 
With lucre's universal thirst : 
The rage that sweeps my sons away, 
My baneful gold shall well repay." 



EPISTLE » 

FROM THOMAS HEARNE, ANTIQUARY, 

TO TUB AUTHOB OP TBB COMPANIOM TO THB 
OXPOBO GOIDB. 

FttiBND of the moss-grown spire and crumbling arch, 
\^'ho woot'st at eve to pace the long lost hounds 
Of lonesome Oseney ! What malignant fiend 
Thy cloister-loving mind from ancient lore 
Hath base sedoc'd } Urg'd thy apostate pen 
To trench deep wounds on antiquaries sage. 
And drag the venerable fathers forth. 
Victims to laughter ! Cruel as the mandate 
Of mitred priests, who Baskett late enjoin'd 
To throw aside the reverend letters black. 
And print Cut-prayers in modem type ! — ^At thb 
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 fat their own ! and fondly deem'd 
The Muses, at thy call, would crowding come 
To deck Antiquity wUh flowrets gay. 

But now may curses every search attend 
That seems inviting ! may'st thou pore in vain 
For dubious door-ways ! may revengeftil moths 
Thy ledgers eat ! may chronologic spouta 
Retain no cypher legible I may crypts 
Lurk undiscern*d 1 nor may'st thou spell the names 
Of saints in storied whidows I nor the dates 
Of bells discover ! nor the genuine site 
Of abbot's pantries t and may Godstowe veil. 
Deep from thy eyes profisne, her Gothic chamis. 

> This poem by mistake has been given to Mr. T. 
Warton, but its property is claimed under the 
Doctor's own hand, in a letter to his brother on 
the publication of the Oxford Sausage. 

* Names of cmment aotiquariei. 



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SHAKESPEAR'S TWELFTH NIGHT ... TO Mil. SEWARD. lyl 



FBOM SHAKBSPEjfWS TWEVeTH 
NIGHT K 

TiAT ftrftiD again ! that fltrain repeat ! 
Aits ! it is not DOW to fweet ! 
Oh ! it came o'er my moarnful mind, 
like Bonniun of the •oothern wind, 
ThU Heal akmg the Tidlet'e bed, 
iod gently bend the ogwilip'a bead ; 
Tvat toiled to my peotire mood, 
Teai hop cl e m love^ deUcioui food. 



ODE 
TO MUSIC 



Qottii of every momng measaie» 
Svcetest tonrce of pnnast pleasore, 
Miitie ; why iby powers employ 
Only for the sons of joy } 
Only for the smiling guests 
At Dstal or at nuptial feasts ? 
Rather thy lenient numbers pour 
On those whom secret grieli derour | 
Bid be still the throbbing hearts 
Of those, whom death, or abfence paiti, 
Aod, with some softly whisper'd air, 
SbMoth the brow of damb despair. 



USES, 
wirmm s^hvHMms, on ssBiiro som sotdiiis 

AT WICKHAtt, WHO WSRS OOfNG TO PORM A 
SamBMSWT HEAR SBWBCAIItlA. 

Wrra happy omen marrh, ye raliaot ranks, 
Frosi Thames to Senegambia's distant banks. 
Where, beneath wanner suns and genial skies, 
Ifsy fatxire eities and new empires rise. 



VERSES 

€m Ba. BUlTOIl'S BBATI. 

Batas not for me, dear yooths I year monnful lays 
bi bitter tears. 0*er blooming Beauty's grare 
Let Pity wring her hands : I full of yearn. 
Of honours fall, satiate of lifo, retire 
Like an overwearied pilgrim to his home, 
Ksr at oiy kit repine. Yet the last prayer. 
That from my straggling bosom parts, shall rise 
Fervent for you ! May Wkkham's much-bT'd 

walls 
Hettin with Seienoe^ Fame, and Vhtne blest, 
t times and regkxii hail hie name. 



This en|atMte moreean . is gfminded on the 
peniogof Shakcapeai*s Twelfth Night: 
** ifaasicbethefoodoflofa,playoa,"&o. 



VERSES, 

SfOJOm TO TBI KIVO BT tORB SHArRStURT. 

FoRGTrB th* officious Mtee, that, with weak toice 
And trembling accents rude, attempts to hail 
Her royal guest ! whofirom yott tented field, 
Britain's defence and boast, has deign'd to smile 
On Wickham's sons ; the gentler arts of peace 
And science ever prompt to praise, and Mars 
To join with Pallas ! His the Muses' task 
And office best to oohsecrate to fome 
Heroes and Tirtueus kings : the gen*rous youths. 
My low'd compeers, hence with redoubled toil 
Shalt strive to merit such auspidous smiles ; 
And through life's Tarious walks, in arts or arms. 
Or tnneful numbers, with their country's love 
And with true loyalty enflam'd, t' adorn 
This happy realm ; while thy paternal carp 
To time remote, anil distant lands, shall spread 
Peace, justice, riches, science, freedom, fame. 



TO MR, SEfVARD, 

OM BIS riBSBS TO LAVT TOUKC 

Wb aged bards, rash friend ! must now fbrbear 
To wound with feeble rhymes Amanda's ear j 
Waller in his full fSorce such charms might praise. 
Or polish'd Petrarch, in his earliest lays. 
Not with a knrer's or a poet's fire- 
In sober silence we can but admire 
Beauty with temper, taste and sense combin'd. 
The body only equall'd by the i ' 



jiKSfVER, By W. F, Es^, 

TO SB. WARTOB. 

Shall Fancy's bard of age complain } 
Oh 1 strike the sacred lyre again ; 
For some there are whose pow'is subiiBM 
Defy the envious rsge of time ; 
And bunt hia slender cord, that binda 
In narrow bounds inferior minds. 
With youth renew'd an hundred years. 
The dauntless eagle perseveres. 
Aims at the Sun his daring flight, 
And drinks untirM the living light : 
Thus genius glows without decay. 
And basks in beauty's heavenly ray. 
While Barb'ra claims the votive strain. 
Strike, then — Oh strike the lyra again; 
As Grecian dames to her must yield. 
For thee Anacreon quits the fiekL 
Thos shall Britannia's fome increase. 
In wit and beauty rival Greece. 
Strike !— strike again the sacred lyre, 
Lo ! Seward joins th' applauding choir. 
Whose dross > contains a richer store 
Than half the workPs best polish'd ore ; 
My feebler Muse her wing shall fbkl. 
For ye are young, but I am old. 

t Alluding io Mb Sewanl's puhHcatioii uadertha 
titleofr 



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17« 



DR. W ARTOKS POEIdSi 



Oy VOT BEING ABLE TO WRITE 
rSRSBS TO I^ELIA. 

N* tanefol period, ly) welUpolish'd line 
Cu> tsaxkt from a heart so fend af mine : 
Wit if the iaDguage of a mad at esM, 
Trae peOROa feeU too much with art to pkaaa. 
Let rhymiag triflanceldNrsU your eyea; 
I o»ly gaze io tilenca and id «§ hs. 
Ye Muses !* will ye deign your weaied ud, 
And painfc, O vain attempt ! my matebless maid. 
' Ah, no 1 the stifled groan, the starting tear ' 
Too well declare, I am no poet here. 

Twas thus I sang, and heavy lioars btyaU'da 
Ere yet my Delia bent her head, and smiPd. 
Kow care, bc^ne ! for soion b^ longing arms 
Stnll closely to my bosom strain her channs : 
Haste ! tardy time I and let me call her wi^ 
I feel to live without her is not life. 



ODE. 

O GBwrti, feather^footed Sleep, 
In downy dews her temple^ tteqs 
Softly waving o*er her head 
Thy cara-beguHing Mdef lead ; 
Let Hymen in her dreams appear 
And mildly whisper in her ear. 
That constant boirts can never prove 
Thie ticniports, but in weddeil love. 



VERSES 



WRrmv o« 



PAISIWO THaOUGH HACKWOOD PAEB, 

AUG. n^ 1719. 

O Moca lov'd hannto 1 O beech-cmbe(wer*d vales ! 

kmely lawns ! where oft at pensive eve 

1 met in former hews the M«se» and sooght 
9hr from the ho^ world your deepest shades, 
Heo^e my lowilv Delia ; io her eye. 

Well skilFd to jodge of Nature's varions ehamis. 
Display jmm innosl baanties, lead her steps 
To eadi mspiring avenne, hot chief 
O gnide her la that airy bill^ where Health 
Sits on the verdant turf enthrai'd, and imilai 



Around the joyous villages ; O breathe 
Into herteadar breast year bah&iest gales; 
O ease her languid head I that she who feels 
For others pains, may ne'er lament her own. 



ODE 

OM Tn WLAtH •» ■» PaTlllt. 

No more of mirth and run^ joy% 
The gay description quickly cloys. 
In melting nuiftbefat sadly slow, 
I tone my altered striogs to woe ; 
Attend, Melpomene, and wiith thee bring 
Thy tragic lute, £uphranor*s death to sing; 
Fond wilt thou be bis naaie to praise. 
For oft thou heard'st his skilful lays ; 
Isis for him soft teara barshed. 
She placed her ivy on Mstiead ; 
Chose him, strict jvdge, to rale with steady rrins 
The vigorous foncies of her listening swattts. 
With genius, wit, and science blest. 
Unshaken honour srmM bis breast. 
Bade him, with virtuous courage wise. 
Malignant Fbrtune*5 darts despise ; 
Him,ev'n black Kavy's venomM tongues comment, 
As scholar, pastor, husband, father, friend. 
For ever sacred, ever dear, 
O moch-Iov'd shade, accept tiiis tear ; 
Each night indulging pious woe. 
Fresh roses en thy tomb I strew. 
And wish for tender Spenser's moving verse, 
Waibled in broken sobs o'er Sydney's berse j 
Let me to that deep cave resort. 
Where Sorrow keeps her ailani «on«lp 
For ever wriogiag her pale bands. 
While dumb Misfortune near her ttands» 
With downcast eyes the Cares around her wait. 
And Pity sobbing sits befere the pAe. 
Thus streteh'd npon his firvn 1 song^ 
^^iien stnj^ht my ears with nrarmuf '^^S> 
A distant, deaf, and hollow sonnd 
Was heard in solemn whispers round*- 
" Enough, dear yooth ! Chn* wfapt in blias above^ 
Well pleas'd I listen to thy lays of love." 



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TIIE 



POEMS 



OP 



THOMAS BLACKlOCK, D.D. 



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THE 

LIFE OF BLACKLOCK, 

BY MR. CHALMERS. 



1 HIS Tery extraordinary poet was bom in the year 1721» at Annan in the county of 
DamfticSy in Scotland. His parents were natives of Cumberland, of tiie lower ordef^ 
but industrious and well informed. Before he was six months old he lost his sight by 
the small-pox, and therefore as to all purposes of memory or imagination, may be 
Slid never to have enjoyed that blessmg. His father and fiiends endeavoured to lessen 
the calamity by reading those books which might convey the instruction suitable to 
ioftncy, and as he advanced, they proceeded to others which he appeared to relish and 
remember, particularly the works of Spenser, Milton, Prior, Pope, and Addison. And 
ittch was the kmdness which his helpless situation and gentle temper excited, that he 
ms seldom without some companion who carried on this singular course of education, 
until be had even acquired some knowledge of the Latui tongue. It is probable that 
he rememt^red much of all that was read to him, but his mind began very early to 
make a chdce. He firrt discovered a predilection for Engli^ poetry, and then at 
the tge of twelve endeavoured to imitate it in various attempts, one of which is 
preserved m the present collection, but rather with a view to mark the commencement 
thso the perfection of his talent. 

Iq this manner his life appears to have past for the first nineteen years of his life^ 
St the end of which he had the misfortune to lose his father, who was killed by the 
accidental M of a malt-kihi. For about a year after this, he continued to live at 
home, and began to be noticed as a young man of genius and acquirements such as 
were not to be expected in one m his situation* His poems, which had increased m 
BUfflber as he grew up, were now handed about in manuscript, with confidence that 
tbej were worthy of the attention of the discerning, and some of them having been 
iboini to Dr. Stevensoii, an eminent physician of Edinburgh, he formed the benevolent 
deiigD of removing the author to that city, where his genius might be improved by a 
Kgidar education* He came accordingly to Edinburgh in the year 1741, and oonti* 
tncd his studies m the university, under his kind patron, till the year 1745^ and in 
1746 a volume of his poems, in octavo, was published, but with what eflfect we are 
Bot told. The rebellion, however, which then raged in Scotfamd, disturbed arts and 



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175 LIFE OF BLAdtLOCKl 

learaiog, and our author returned to Domiries, where he found an asylum in the 
house o^ Mr. M'Murdo, who had married his sister, and who by company and con- 
versation, endea?oured to amuse his solitude, and keep up his stock of learning. At^ 
the dose of the rebellion, he returned to Edinburgh, and pursued his studies for six 
years longer. 

• He now obtamed 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, but previously to this a second 
edition of the octavo had been publbhed at Edinburgh in 1 754. In this last mention- 
ed year, he became known to the rev. Joseph Spence, poetry professor of Oxford, 
who introduced hun to the EogMsh pubUc, by An Account of the Life, Character 
and Poems of Mr. Blacklock, student of Philosophy in the University of Edinbui^b. 
In this pamphlet Mr. Spence detailed the extraordinary circumstances of his education 
and genius with equal taste and iraanaity, and a ndbscription was immediately opened 
at Dodsley's shop for a quarto edition to be published at a guinea the large, and half 
a guinea the small paper. 

Having completed his educatieB at the onivenity, he began a coarse of study, 
Willi a view to give lectuves on oratory to youag gentkaiea intended for the bar or 
ti» iHilpit, but by Hume's advice he desisted horn a pn^ect wlneh the latter 
thought uDKb^ to sacoeed, and deteraiiaed to study diviaky, which proawed to 
gratify and eidaiige the pious fediagt and senfeiaKnts that had grown up with him. 
Accovdingly, after the usual ^ecrfNitiQfiRry coatse, he was licensed a preacher of the 
gospel, agn^eaUy to Hie nilea of the church of Scotland, in Ibeyear 1759- io this 
ehmracter he attviaed coasidecable icyttfatioa, and was fbad of eomposug sermous, of 
which he has Mi anae volumes ia' maaotciqit, as also a treatise of morals, both of 
which hb firieads onoe iaiended for the piass* Two oocasioQil serasons are said to 
> kxft baen pablbfaed in his lifetime, bat probably never reached thb country, as no 
notice of them occurs in our iteraty jouraab. 

Hb oceupatknM and disposition at this period of his life are tfaos related by tiie rev. 
lln Jameaen, cf Newcastle^ who knew Urn lafimatdy. 

<' His BManer of life,'' says that genHeaMRi, «' was so amform, that the history of it 
during one day, or one week, is the history of it during the seven years that onr 
personal lotercanrae baled. Iteadiag, music, wflttkngy conversing, and disputing 
an vaiioaB tepies, ai Aaology, ethicR, &«. employed almost every hour of our time. It 
was pkasant to hear ban engaged in a dispnte, for no man oonM keep Ms temper better 
Iban he always did on snoh occarions. ^ I have known him frequently very warmly 
engaged tor hoan together, bat never ooaM observe one angry word to iall from him. 
Wlatc«i«r his antagonist might any, he always kept his temper. '' <Seniper paiatus et 
sefeUem nne pettuiacta,«t vefeUi «ae imcoadia.'' He was, however, exttemely 
amsiUe t» what he thought ill aeage, and equ^ so whettier it regarded hunsdf or 
Im friends. But h» veeenlaftent was always confined to a few satirical verses, which 
weie generalfy bamt soon a^r.'^ 

'' The late Mr. Spenoe (the eMor of the quarto t&il6on of his poems) frequently 
urged ban to write a tragedy; and assured him that he had mterest enou^ with 
Mr. Garrick to get it acted. Varioas sufcjecto were proposed to him, several of which 



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LIFE OP BLACKLOCK^ iff 

Iw appr&ved of, yet he never could be prevailed on to b^io any thing of that 
kind '• It may seem remarkable, but as fiur as I hoow, it. was invariably the dise^ 
that he never could think or write on any subject proposed lo him by another^ 

" I have frequently admired with what readiness and rapidity faje could sometimes 
make verses. I have known him dictate from thirty to folty verses^ tmd by no mekiis 
bad ones, as fast as I could write them ; but the moment he was'at a loss for a rhyme 
or a verse to his likings he stopt altogether) and ^uld very seldom be induced toiinish 
what he had begun with so mucli ardour," 

To this his elegant biographer add^ ^ Ai) those vlhp ever lusted as his amanuenses, 
agree in this rapidity and ardour of composi^on wUck Mr. JanKsdn ashibes to him 
ID the account I have copied above* He luefrer eould dittate> till he Uood up ; and 
as hia blindness made walking about withQuJt asaistluice ineMarenkiit or diingerous m 
him, he fell insensibly into a vibratqry sort of motioti of hb bqdyv which inereaM 
as he warmed with his sulject, and was pleased with theconccpdmis of his nliiMf. 
This motion at last became habitual to him, and though be'coUkLsomflimes restrain it 
when on ceremony, or in any public appearance, siidi as pieaehmg, he felt a eerta^ 
aaeasineasfrom the effort, and always rcstuiwed to it wheniie could mdulge it without 
improprietyi^ 

. In 1762, he married Miss Sarah JohnsliDii^ daughter of Mn Joseph Johnston, sc^ 
geonin Dumfries^ a connexion which fovined the great: aol^ee .of his future tifei* 
About the same time he was ordained minister of the town and pmsshof KircudbfiglHt 
in consequence of a presentation from th^. . crown, obtained for him by the'. Isart' of 
Selkirk ; but die parishioners havmg oliy^cid to the appomtment, afMr a legaldiq^ 
of nearly two year8» his friends ,advise4 hkn to res^n his rigU,-and accept bf'a 
moderate annuity in its, stead. If their principal objeetioe was , to his want of sight, 
it was certainly not unieasouable. He would probably in the course of a few yeala 
have fouad it very inconvenient, if not paipfulj( to .execute all the duties of the pastonl' 
office. 

With the slender provision allowed by this parish he retunxd to EdUwIgh in IJSa^ 
and adopted the plan of receiving a limitfd number of young gntkmfia into his 
house, not only as boarders, but as pupils whose studies he wight oecasiOuf^y asttst. 
And this fdan socce^ed so well that -he continued it till the ;ear i7B7t when age and 
infirmity obliged him .to retire from active life. 

In 1767, the degreeof doctor of divinity was conferred upoU;bim by the UniveEsity 
and Marischal College of Aberdeen, doubtless at the suggestippaf bis friei<d abd 
correspondent Dr. Bei)ttie, to whom ' he had in the precedii^ ye^r sent a pfQ$ent of 
his works». accompanied by some verses. Dr. Bealtie returned ar poetical epidth^ 
which is now piefixed to Biacklock's poems, and ever after . maiirtaifwd a emrtssr 
pondence with him, and consulted him. upon all (lis s^bse^ept works, partieutarly 
bis celebrated Essay on Truth. ^ .' 

1 Mr. SwmtKn trat |nt)bab1y ignorant of the cireum.«tftnce of his writiiig, at a subsequent period, a 
tnaedy ; but upon vlait mAgcot, hit TetoUoo, from whom I tece^fed tbe ioteHigence, eamiot recoHtect. 
IV maaoscript wai pot into tbe bands of the late Mr. Croebie, then aa emtaenl aiiwoeatf at tbe bar ^ 
Soottand, but has never since beearecoreied. Mackenzie, 

Vat^XVUi If * 



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1/8 LIFE OF BLACKLOCK. 

In tbe tamo year be publisbedy Paraclesb: or Consolations deduced from Natutat 
and ReTcakd Religion : in two Dissertations ; the first supposed to hate been com- 
posed by Cibero: now rehdered into English: the last originally written by Dr. 
BlacUock. The plan of the original dissertation is to nrove the superiority of the 
consolations to be derived from the Christian revelation, but it is pamful to find by 
bis preface that his motive for writing it, was •* to alleviate the pressure of repeated 
disappointments, 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 natund disad- 
vantages, had maintained an incessant conflict with fortune.' Of what nature hs 
disappointments were, or who could be implacable enemies to such a man, we are ncA 
told. His biographer, indeed, informs us, that be " had from nature a constitution 
delicate and nervous, and his mind, as is almost always the case, was in a great degree 
subject to the indispositioo of his body. He frequently complained of a lovmess and 
depression of qnrits, which neitlier the attention of his friends, nor the unceasing' care 
of a most affectionate wife, were able entirely to remove." Let us hope^ therefore, 
for the honour of manknid, that his complamts were those, not tof a man who had 
enemies, but of one who was sensible that, with strong powers of mind, and well- 
founded consolidions, he was-yet excluded from many of the rational deligbia of which 
)^e heard others speak, and of which, if he formed any idea, It was probably di^ro- 
portioned and distressiDg. 

' In 17^B, he published a translation, from the Fr^ncb of the ret.' James. Afmsmi, 
iDiipisiisr of the Widloon church in Hanau, of two discourses on the ^ipnrit and evidence 
of Christianity, with a long dedkation iVoni hb own pen, calculated for the perusal 
of the clergy of the church of Scotland. > In this, as in all* his prose writhigs; his 
style is elegant; nervous, and animated, and his sentiments* such as indicate the purest 
*aeal for the interests of religion^ His kist publication, in ITf4, was the Omham, an 
Heroic Ballad ; m four Cantos: mtended to promote harmony between the inhabifants 
of. Sdodand and'Ehgkmd; ' As a poem however, it added litticf to bis reputation, and 
:bas been exdnded from the collection formed by Mr. Mackeni:ie,wiich is l^re adopted. 

In 1791, he was seiised with a feverish disorder, whidi at first seemed of a sKgbt, 
and never rose to a very violent kind; but his weak frame was' unable to support it, 
and he died after about a week's illness, July 79 1791910 the seventieth year of Irts age. 
A monument was afterwards erected to bis memory, with an elegant Latiainscription 
fromthe pen ofDr. Beattie. 

Such are the few eVents of Dr. Blacklock's life. His chilradl^r, ahd the character 
of his writings, are more interesting, and will probably ever continue to be the subject 
of contemplation with nil wiio study the human mind, or revere the dispensations of 
Providence. His perseverance in acquiriiig so extennve a fond ofleamii^, amidst 
those privations which seem to bar all access to improvement, is an extraordiaaiy 
feature in his character, and notwithstanding the kind leal of the friends who endea- 
voured to make up for his want of $igbt by ffcadiog to him, WBomy of his aUainflMttts 
must ever remain ioeaplicable* 

With respect to his personal character, hn biographer, and indeed' all who knew 
him, have expatiated on the gentleness of las manners^ the benignity 9t hia dispoalioB 



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LIFE OF BLACKLOCK* 179 

and fthtl warm interest in tbe happinesB of otben which led him so constantly to 
promote it m the young people who were committed to his charge. In their society he 
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 
Uiat torn around blip. It was a sight highly gratifying to philanthropy, to see bow 
much a mind endowed with knowledge, kindled by genius, and above all lighted up 
vilh jnoocepct and piety, like Blacklock's» could overcome the weight of its own 
calamity^ and enjoy the content, the happiness, and the gaiety of others. Several of 
those inmates of Dr. Blacklock's house retained, in future life, all the warmth of that 
impresaioo which his friendship at this early period had made upon them; and in 
various quarters of the world, he had friends and correspondents from whom no 
length of time or distance of place had ever estranged him. 

** Music, which to the feeling 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, particidariy on the flute. He generally carried in hb pocket a small 
flageolet *, on which he played his favourite tunes ; and was not displeased when 
asked in company to play or to si^g them : a natural feeling for a blmd man, who 
thus adds a scene to the drama of his society ."^ 

With regard to his poetry, there seems uo occasion to involve ourselves in the 
perplexities which Mr. Spence first created, and then iiyudiciously as well as 
ioefiectually endeavoured to explain. The character of his poetry is that of sentiment 
and reason : his versification is in general elegant and harmonious^ and his thoughts 
s oaw l ime ii flunr with an ardent rapisHty that betdciens real genius. But it is impossible 
to ascribe powers of description to one who bad seen nothing to describe ; nor of 
inventioo to one who bad no materials upon which he conld operate. Where wo 
find aay passages that' approach ta the descriptmn of vbible objects^ we must surdy 
attr9rate tbem- la aaemory. Ashe.faad tlie b^t EagKsh poets frequently read to faimp 
he attained a lifee*conmiaDd of the language of poetry, both in. simple and compound 
wards, and vre know that all poets* consider these as oommon property. It is not 
tkieftva woaderfiil that be spei^ soollen of tmoanlams, valfies, riven, nor that he 
appmpriates- to visible objects their peculiar clmmcteriatics, all which he must have 
beard repealed until they lieeattie fixed in his memory : but as no man pursues long 
abat alfords little more than the exercise of conjecture, we are still perplexed to 
(bcover what pleasure Mr. Blacklock could .take, first in a species of reading which 
cooM give him no ideas, and then in a species of writing in which he could copy only 
the expseseioas of others. There are few of bis poems in which some passage does 
not oe^r which lemptii us to ask, wjiat idea could be affix to this? When he speaka 
of ■* insect crowds that *scape the nicest eye," how could he judge of crowds «r insects 

* " Hit llfit idea of learDiDg to play on this instrameiit he used to ascribe to m circumstauoe rather 
•BeoBUBOD, but which, to a mind like his, susceptible at the same time ar*T creative, miirht naturally 
coMgh ariw, namely, a Drwm, in which be thought he met with a shepherd's boy on the side of a 
paUa al lull, who broo^t the most eiqoisito music from that little iastroment.'* Mackenzie. 



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UO XIFL OF BLACKLOCK. 

tiiat had ne eyet^t '' Staity akies" he might have borrowed, but what txwn of tboogbf 
led biin to say of nighty 

Clouds peep dn dbudii, and, as they rise, 
CondtDse to solid gloom the skies. 

, *' Pale fear,'' *' pale lerroor,* «* white robed innocence,* •* iron swaiy,*' •• livid phan- 
toms,* « rosy bowl,* «« angel form," and many others, he had often heard, but the 
following images, if borrowed in parts^ are certainly combined with ithe hand of a 
master- ' 

As swift descending shov'n of raia^ 

Deform with mad the clearest streams^ 
A* rising mists Heav'n's azure staiuj 
TtngM with Aurora's blosh In vain; 

As fades the flow'rs In mid-day beams ' 
Ob life thns tender somows prey. 
And wcap in gloom its piomis'd day,— 

% Thro' teais heboid a sister's eyes 

Emitafededray."— 

< Say, oould nor song of malting wne^ 

Revoke the keen detennin'd bloiw« 

That elos'd lus sparkling eye ? 
Thus roses oft, by early doom, 
Robb*d of their bfosh and sweet perftmie^ 

Grow pale, recTme, and die. 

What idea onr auth(Nr had of these appearances^ -and what kmd or degree of 
jd^suie they afforded bun* it is impossible to discover. He has himself written 
a very long article on Blindness m the Encyclopedia Britaanica» but it aflbfds no 
lig^t to the present subject, containing chiefly refleetions on the disadvantagea of 
Uindness, and the best means of alleviating them. His poem|» however, especially 
where attempts are made at description, indicate powers which- seem to have 
wanted the aid of sight only to bring them mto the hij^ieflt rank. We know that 
•poetical genius is almost wholly hidependent of .learning, and seemi often planted in 
a soil where nothing else will flourish, but Bkicklock's Is altogether an eztnor- 
dinary case: we have not even terms by which we can intelligibly discnss his 
merits, and we may conclude with Denina in his Distfrao iaUa UUrMtmra^ that 
«lBlacklock wiU appear to posterity a fable, as to us he is a prodigy. It will be thought 
a fiction, a paradox, that a man Uind from his infimcy, besides having made himaelf 
so much a master of various foreign languages, should be a great poet in his own; and 
without having hardly ever seen the light, should be so wmarkaMy happy im 
deKrsptioB.* 



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COMMENDATORY VERSES. 



ITJi. THOMAS BLACKLOCK. 

^1X> bone and to the Muse unkuoim 
^ Where mits and scienoe nerer ihooe, 

A hamlet ' stands secore : 
Her rustic sons, to toil inur'd, ^ 

If blooDhig health and gain allur'd. 

Their grateful soil mannre. 
What means my heart ! — TIs Natuie*g pew*r : 
Yes» here I date my natal hour. 

My banting heart would say : 
Here sleep the swains from whom I sprung, 
Whoae oooacienee MX remorse ne*er stung j 

For Nature led their way. 
Smplicity, unslainM with crimes, 
{A gem how rare in modem times $ ) 

Was all from them F bore : 
No sounding titles swellM my pride ; 
My heart to mis'ry ne>r was ty'd. 

By heaps of shining ore. 
Heedlem of wealth, of pow*r, of fame ; 
Heediem of each ambitious aim, > 

Here flowed my boyish years. 
How oft these plains l*ve thoughtless piest | 
Whistled, or suQg some ftiir < distrest, 

Whoee fiite would steal my tears I 
Thns mde, unpolishM, unrefin'd ; 
While, plun^d in darkest night, my muid 

Uacultivated lay ; 
With pity moT'd, my fate yon Tiew'd ; 
My way to light, to reason shew'd, 

And opM the source of day : 
Yon looeM and Ibrm'd my infknt thought ; 
Your dcill, your matchless goodness taught. 

Where truth and bliss to find : 
Psintod, by thee, in all her charms, 
Etch gen'rooa heart fair Virtue warms, 

And sweUs the rarish'd mind. 
Hail bright celestial, all divine ! 
O come ! inspire this breast of mine 

With all thy heav'niy powV : 
Lead, lead me to thy happiness ; 
Point oat thy path to that blest place. 

Where grief shall be no more, 

Richard Hswrrr \ 



> Roeklifie, a little country village near Carlisle, 

n the county of Cumberland. 

' Alluding to a sort of narrative songs, which 

\ no inoonsidereble part of the innocent amuse- 

s with which the country people pass the whiter 

aighti, and of which the author ol the present piece 

was a fiittfafnl rehearser. 

9 Tbas little poem can boast aquality which com- 



AN BnSTLE FROM DR, BEATTm. 

TO TH? 

Rsv, Mr. THOMAS BLACKLOCK 1 

Monstio quod ipse tibi possis dare ; semlta certe 
Tranq^itto per virtutem patet unica vitse. 

JUVRMAI, Sat. X. 

Hail to the poet ! whose spontaneous lays 
No pride restrains, nor venal flattery sways. 
Who, nor from critics, nor from fashion's laws, 
L«ams to adjust his tribute of applause; 
But bold to ficel, and ardent to impart 
What Nature whispers to the generous heart. 
Propitious to the moral song, commends. 
For Virtue's sake, the humblest of her friends* 

Peace to the grumblers of an envious age. 
Vapid in spleen, or brisk in frothy rage ! 
Critics, who, ere they understand, defeme ; 
And friends demure, who only do not blame ; 
And puppet-prattlers, whose unconscious throat 
Transmits what the pert witling prompts by rote : 
Pleased, to their spite or scorn I yield the lays 
That boast the sanction of a Blackcock's praise. 
Let others court the hiind 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 
ExulU in virtue's pure ethereal flame ; 
Whose thoughts, congenial with the strains on high. 
The Muse adorns, but cannot dignify • 
As northern lights, in glitteriujr ^gioos driven, 
Embellish, not exalt, tbe 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. 
He was a poor native of a village in the neighbour- . 
hood of Carlisle, whom Mr. Backlock had taken to 
lead him, and whom, flndiug him of promising 
parts, and of a disposition to learn, he endeavoured 
to make a scholar. He succeeded so welt as to teach 
youag Hewitt the Latin, Greek, and French lan- 
guages,^ and some knowledge in the sciences. The 
tad bore his master that warm a flection which tiis 
kindness seldom failed to procure from his domes, 
tics, and left him, with unwillingness, to enter the 
service of lord Milton, (then lord justice clerk, 
and sous-ministre for Scotland under Archibald 
duke of Argyle), whoee secrptory he became. Tbe 
fatigue of that station hurt bit health, and he died 
in 1764. 
< Vide Dr. Seattle's Poems ,edition 1 766, p. 1 35. 



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COMMENDATORY VERSES. 



What heights of excellence must he ascend, 
"Who longs to claim a Black lock for bis (riend ; 
Who longs to emulate thy tuneful art ; 
But more thy meek simplicity of heart ; 
But more thy virtue patient, undismay'^d, 
At onee though malice, and mischance iuTade ; 
And, nor by learned nor priestly pride coiifin*d. 
Thy zeal for truth, and love of human kind. 
Like thee, with sweet ineffiible controui, 
Teach me to rouse or sooth th'impassion'd soul, 
And breathe the luxury of social woes ; 

Ah ! iU-exchang*d for all that mirth bestonrs. 

Ye slaves of mirth, renounce your boasted plan. 

For know, His sympathy exalts the man. 

But, midst the fe^ve bower, or echoing hall. 

Can Riot listen to soft Pity's call ? 

Rude he repels the soul-ennobling guest. 

And yields to selfish joy his hardened breast 
Teach mc thine artless harmony of song, 

Sweet, as the vernal warblings boboe aJong 



Arcadia's myrtle groves ; ere Ait began. 
With critic glance malevolent, to scan 
Bold Nature's generoos charms, displayed promise 
In each warm cheek, and each ennqpturM Muie. 
Then had not Fraud imsoa'd, hi nshion's name, 
For (reedoiA Kfcless form, Wid pride for shame; 
And, for th' o' erflowings of a heart sincere, 
The feature fix'd, nntambh'd with a tear; 
Tbeeautious, slow, and unenliven'd eye. 
And breast inured to check the tender sigh. 
Then love, unblam'd, indnlg*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** law alone. 
To godlike aims, and godlike actions fir'd ; 
And the full energy of thought inspir'd ; 
And the fall dignity of pleasure, given 
V exalt desire, and yield a taste of Heaven. 



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POEMS 



OF 



DR. THOMAS BLACKLOCR. 



HORjiCB, ODE L imitatsii. 

INtCaUIS TO 

De. JOHN STEVENSON, 
Pkifnaan t» Edinburgh* 

0THO17, vhose goodness unconfio^d 
Eiteiids its wish to human kiod j 
By whose iodulgeoce I aspire 
To strike (he sweet Horatian lyre ; 

Thete are who, on th* Olympic plain, 
Ddight the charrot's speed to rein ; 
Imfotv'd in glorious dost to roll ; 
To torn with glowing wheel the foal ; 
Who by lepeated trophies rise, 
koA Asdte with gods their pomp and skies* 
This man, if changeful crowds admire. 
Fermented er^n to viad desire. 
Their ibdl or inllain to elate 
Te alt the honours of the state; 
Thit, if his granary secures 
Whatever th' autumnal sun matures, 
PlessPd hif paternal field to plow, 
Jteowte fnm each ambitious view, 
Vart India's wealth would bribe in vain. 
To lanch the hark, and cut the main. 

The merchant, while the western breeze 
Tennents to rage th' Icarian seas, 
Urg*d by th' impending hand of £ste, 
E^lois to Heav'n his oountry-seat ; 
Its sweet reili emc n t, fearless ease. 
The fields, the air, the streams, the trees; 
Yet fiu the shattered bark again, 
Renlv'd to bniTe the tumid main, 
KesolT'd all haxards to endure, 
Kor dmn a plague, but, to be poor. 

One with the free, the gen*rous bowl, 
AbsoiiH his cares, and warms hte soul: 
Nov wiapi in ease, supinely laid 
Benesth the mjnrtle's am'roos shade ; 
Nov where some sacred fi>nntain flows, 
^hoK etdeooe soft mvites repose ; 



While half the sultry cummer's day 
On silent pinions steals away. 

Some bustm.'/ boast a nobler flame. 
In fields of death to toil iur lame, 
In war's grim front to tempt their fate ; 
Curst war, ! which brides and mothers hate : 
As in each kindling hero's sight 
Already glows the promised fight ; 
Their hearts with more than transport bound. 
While drums aud trumpets mix their sound. . 

Unmindful of his tender wife. 
And ev'ry home-felt bliss of life. 
The huntsman, in th' unshelter'd plains. 
Heaven's whole inclemency sustains ; 
Now scales the steepy mountain's side. 
Now tempts ^e torrent's headlong tide ; 
Whether his faithful hounds in view. 
With speed some timid prey pursue ; 
Or some fell monster of the wood 
At once his hopes and snares elade. 

Good to bestow, like HeaT'n, is thine^ 
Concurring in one great design ; 
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* breezy shades to stray, 
Where choral nymphs and graces play ; 
Above th' unthinking herd to soar. 
Who sink forget, and are no more ; 
To snatch from fate an honest fame. 
Is all I hope, and all I claim. 
If to my TOWS Euterpe deign 
The Doric reed's mellifiuent strain. 
Nor Polyh3rmnia, darling Muse ! 
To tune the Lesbian harp refuse. 
But, if you rank me with the choir, 
Who toQch, with happy hand, the lyre ; 
Exulting to the starry firame, 
Sustain'd by all the wings of feme. 
With bays adom'd I then shall soar. 
Obscure, depresi^d, and sooni'd no more 



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White Envy, vainly vamrVn ibe. 
With ttbie wings shall flag below ; 
And, Aom»d to breathe a grosier air, 
TO reach my glorioas height despair. 



BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 

AN HYMN TO THE SUPREME BEtNQ. 

IK IMITATION OF THE Cimi FSAUC. 



PSALM L IMITATIB. 

How blest the man, how more than blest f 

Whose heart no guilty thoughts employ i 
God's endless sunshine fills his breast. 

And smiling conscience whispers peace and joy. 
Fair Rectitude's unerring way 

His heav'n-conducted step9 pnnoe ; 
White crowds in guilt and errour stray 

UnstaraM his soul, and vndaceivM hia view. 
While, with unmeaning laughter gay 

Scorn, on her throne erected hi«hV 
Emits a fiilse delusive ray. 

To catch th' astonish'd gaze of Folly's eye ; 
Deep in herself his soul retir'd, 

Unmov'd, beholds the meteor blase. 
And, with all-peifect beauty fir'd. 

Nature, and Nature's God. intent surveys. 
Him from high Heav'n. her naUve seal. 

Eternal Wisdom's self inspires,' ^ 
While he, with pulpoM^ fix'd as fkte. 

Pursues her dictates, and her chaima admires. 
In sunshine mUd, and temp'rate air, 

^Z^ r"iS ^^^^g ^«"ntein flows. 
So nura'd by Nature's tend'rest care. 
A lofty tree with autumn's treasure glows, 

^'^^ '*? ^"*^^" ^« summer gale 
With pleasure waves the genial winir ■ 

There no unfriendly colds prevail. 

To chillthe vigour of its endless spring. 

Amid its hospitable shade 

Nor !SIn VT^^* ^^*^ *«~ ^ I«y i 
noT shall Its honours ever &de 

Nor immature its plenteoos fmit decay. 

^^^^'Jr?*"'^^*^ *™ sustafn'd. 

Thus Virtue soon or late shall rise : 
*'njoy her conquest, nobly gain'd. 

And share immortal triumph in the skies. 

^"i/?"*;;.*^ ^^"^ ^«'<>'n Wind. 

Who Vice's tempting call obey. 
A dirrent fete shall quickly find. 

To every roaring storm an easy prey, ' 

"""w-.T^?. ^J^'^wiDg winds ariU, 
T • y^'^»l«" their lawless f.iry driv'n. 

f.rl?*!"?.^*' *^"*^ '"<^^^nt flies. 

Whiri'd m swift eddies thro' Si vault of HeaVn 
Wh^ m tremendous pomp array'd. 

Descending from the op'ningsky 
With full omnipotence display'd 

Here God shall call on Naturi to reply .. 
Then Vice, with shame and grief depress'd 

Sha^l feel Hell kindling in ber breik, 

Nor tc. her Judge prefer her trembling pniy»r • 

For, with a father's fond regard * 

To bhs » he views fair Virtue'lend ; 

While Vice obtains herjustrewanl,' 
And all her paths in deep penlition end. 



Quid prius dicam solitis parentis 
Laudibus ? qui res bominom ac deorum. 
Qui mare et terras, variisque mundum 

Temperat horis ? HoaAci. 

Arise, my soul ! on wings seraphic rise, 
And praise th' almighty Sov'reign of the skies j 
In whom alone essential glory shines. 
Which not the Heav'n of Heav'ns, nor boundlew 
space confines. 
When darkness rui'd with universal sway. 
He spoke, and kindled up the blaze of day ; 
First, fairest offspring of the omnific woid I 
Which, like a garment, clothM its aoVreign Loid, 
On hquid air he bade the columns rise. 
That prop the starry concave of the skies ; 
Difius'd the blue expanse from pole to pole. 
And spread circumflnent ether raiitnd the whole. 

Soon as he bids impetuons tempests fly. 
To wing his so<indtng chariot thro* the sky ; 
Impetuous tempests the command obey. 
Sustain his flight, and sweep th' aerial #ay. 
Fraught with his mandates, from the raalason high. 
Unnumber'd hosts of radiant herakU fly. 
From orb to orb, with progress unoonfin'd. 
As lightning swift, resistless as the wind. 

In ambient air this pond'roos ball he bui». 
And bade its centre rest for ever strong ; 
Heav'n, air. and sea, wfth ail then* storms, m vwn 
Assault the basis of the firm machine. 

At thy Almighty voice eld Ocean raves. 
Wakes all his force, and gathers all his wav«s ; 
Nature lies mantled in a wafiy robe, 
And shoreless billows revel round the globe | 
O'er highest hills the higher surges rise. 
Mix with the clouds, and meet the fluid skio. 
But when in thunder the rebuke was giv'n. 
That shook th' eternal firmament of Heav'n ; 
The grand rebuke th* affrighted waves obey. 
And in confusion scour their uncouth way s 
And posting rapid to the place decreed. 
Wind down the hills, and sweep the humble mead* 
Reluctant in their bounds the waves subside 5 
The bounds, impervious to the lasliing tide. 
Retrain its rage -, whilst, with incessant roar. 
It shakes the caA-ems, and assaults the 8hor«. 

By him, from mountains cloth'd in lucid snow 
Through fertile vales the mazy rivers flow. 

Here the wild horse, uncdnscious of the rein. 
That revels boundless o'er the wide campaign 
Imbibes the silver surge, with heat opprest, ' 
To cool the fever of his glowing breast. 

Here rising boughs, adorn'd with summer's prido 
Project their waving umbrage o'er the tide 5 * 

While, gently perching on the leafy spray. 
Each featherM warbler tunes his Various lay z 
And, while thy praise they symphon'ze around. 
Creation echoes to the grateful sound. 
Wide oVr the Heav'ns the various bow he bends 
It«8 tinctures briglitens, ami 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 o'crflows. 
And still is pregnant^ tlio* she still bestows. 



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185 



tKtt wrniit putnrei wide cxtend6d Ite, 
And yield the f^nnng herd exaberant supply. 
Luxufiaiit waying in the wmntoa air, 
Here golden grain rewards the peasant's care : 
Here Tines mature with fresh carnation glow. 
And HeaT'n above difibses Heav*n below. 
Erect and tall here OKwintBin cedars rise. 
Wave in the starry vault, and emulate the skiei. 

Here the wiog'd ciowd, that skim the yieldiog air. 
With artful toil their liUle domes prepam ; 
Ben bateh their tender young, and nurse their 

rising care, 
rp the steep hill aaoends the nimble doe, 
Wbile tinud conies scour the plains below. 
Or in the pendant rock elude the scenting foe. 

He bade the siWer majesty of night 
RsTolve her circles, and increase her light; 
Aflign'd a province to each rolling sphere, 
And tanght the Sun to regulate the year. 
At his command, wide hov'ring o*er the plain, 
Primeval night resumes her gloomy reign : 
Then fro^ their dens, impatient of delay. 
The savage monsters bend their speedy way. 
Howl thro* the spacious waste, and chase their 

■righted prey. 
Here stalks the shaggy monarch of the wood, 
Thnght from thy providence to ask his food : 
To thee, O Father, to thy bounteoiw ski«i, 
He rears bis mane, and rolls his glaring eyes; 
Heroare; the deaerttrembles wide around. 
And repercumive hills repeat the sound. 

Now orient gems the eastern skies adorn. 
And joyful Nature hails the op'ning mom : 
The rovera, conscious of approaching day, 
Fly to their sheKers, and fjrget their prey. * 
Laborious man, with mod'rate slumber blest, 
Sfirings c heeifu l to his toil from downy rest; 
Till grateful evening, with her argent train. 
Bid labour cease, and ease the weary swain. 
. ** Hail ! soiv>reigngijodness, alUproduotive mind ! 
On all thy wwrks thjrself inscrib'd we find : 
Hqw various all, how variously endow'd. 
How great their number, and each part how good ! 
How perfect then roust the great Parent shine, 
Who, with one act of energy divine, 
Laid the vast plan, and finished the design !*' [sue, 
Where-e'er the pleasing search my thoughts pur- 
rnboonded goodness rises to my view ; 
Nor does our world alone its influence share ; 
EsbaosUesB bounty, and unwearied care. 
Emends through all tb' infinitudn of space. 
And circles Nature with a kind embrace. 
The azure kingdoms of the deep below. 
Thy pow'r, thy wisdoqi, and thy goodness show : 
Here multitudes of ra nous beings stray, 
Ciowd the profbund, or on the surface play : 
Tsll navies here their doubtful way explore, 
And ev*ry product wait from ev'ry' shore ; 
Ilcnoe me^re want ezpelPd, and sanguine strife, 
For the mild charms of cultivated life ; 
Hcnoe social union spreads from soul to soul. 
And India joins in friendship with the pole. 
Here the huge potent of the scaly train 
Enonnooa sails incumbent o*er the main. 
An animated isle ; and in his way, 
IlBshes to Heav'n's blue arch the foamy sea : 
Wh^ eides and ocean mingle storm and flame, 
fgftending instant wreck to Nature's frame, 



^ PleasM in the scene, he mocks, with conscious pride* 
The volley*d lighftting, and the surging tide ; 
And, white the wrathful elements engage, 
Foments with horrid sport the tempest's rage. 
All these thy watchful providence supplies. 
To thee alone they turn their waithig eyes ; 
For them thou open'bt thy exhaustless store. 
Till the capacious wish can grasp no more. 

But, if one moment thou thy face should'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 gloomy Death with all his meagre train. 
Wide G*er the nations spreads his dismal reign ; 
Sea, earth, and air, the boundlest ravage mourn. 
And all their hosts to native dust return. 
But when again thy glory is displayed, 
Reviv'd creation lifts her cheerful head ; 
New rising forms thy potent smiles obey. 
And life rekindles at the gonial ray : 
United thanks replentsh*d Nature pays 
And Heav'n and Karth resound their Maker's praises 

When time shall in eternity be lost, 
And hoary Nature lau,^iti.^h into dust; 
For ever young thy glory shall remain, 
Vast as thy being, endless as thy reign. 
ThoH, from the reziuns of eternal day, 
View'st all thy works at one immense survey: 
Pteas'd, thou behold'st the whole propeosely tend 
To perfiict happine<is, its glorious end. 

if thou to Earth but turn thy wrathful eyes. 
Her basis trembles, and her offspring dies : 
Thou smit^st the bills, and, at th* Almighty blow. 
Their summits kioflle, and their inwards glow. 

While this immortal spark ofheav'nly flame 
Distends my breast, and animates my frame ; 
To thee my ardent praises shall be borne 
On the first breeze that wakes the blushing morn i 
The latest star shall hear the pleasing sound, 
And Nature in full choir shall join around. 
When full of thee my apul excursive flies 
Thro* air, earth, ocean, or thy regal ^kies ; 
Fnim world to world, new wonderw still I find. 
And all the Godhead flashes on my mind. [flight 
When, wing*d with whiriwinds^ Vice shall take its 
To the deep bonom of eternal night. 
To thee my soul shall endless praises pay t 
Join, men and angels, join th* exalted lay 1 



PSJLM CXXXIX. IMITATBB. 

Me, O my God ! thy piercirg eye. 

In motion, or at rest, surveys ; 
If to the looely couch 1 fly. 

Or travel Uiro' frequented ways ; 
Where e*er I move, thy boundless reign. 
Thy mighty presence, circles all the scene. 
^V^^ere shall my thonghts from thee retire, 

Whow view pervades my inmost heart 1 
The latent, kindling, young desire. 

The vnrd, 'ere horn my lips it part. 
To thee their various foifiis display. 
And shine reveal'd in thy suieloiided day* 



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BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



•Behind nie if I turn my eyei, 

Or forward bend my wrad'ring Mght, 
Wbaterer objects round me rise 

Thro' the wide fields oi air and light ; 
With thee impress'd, each various frame 
The forming, moving, present God proclaim. 
Father of all, omniscient Mind, 

Thy wisdom who can comprehend } 
Its highest point what eye can find. 

Or to its lowest depths descend f 
That wisdom, which, 'ere things began. 
Saw full ezprest th' all -comprehending plan f 
What cavern deep, what hill subUme, 

Beyond thy reach, shall I pursue ? 
What dark recess, what distant clime. 

Shall hide me iVom thy distant view } 
Wh^ from thy spirit shall I fly, 
Bifiiisive, vital, felt thro' Earth and sky ? 
If up to Heav'n's etherial height, 

lliy prospect to elude, I rise ; 
Jn splendour there, severely bright. 

Thy presence shall my sight surprise t 
There, beaming firom their source divine. 
In full meridian, light and beauty shine* 
Beneath the pendant globe if laid, , 

If plmig'd in Hell's abyss prolbnndy 
I call on night's impervious shade 

To spread essential blackness round; 
Conspicuous to thy wide survey, 
Ev>n Hell's grim horrours kindle into day. 
Thee, mighty God ! my wondering soul. 

Thee, all Iker conscious powers adore » 
Whose being circumscribes the whole, 

Whose eyes its utmost bounds explore; 
Alik^ illum'd by native light. 
Amid the Son's full blaze, or gloom of night. 
If through the fields of ether borne. 

The living winds my flight sustain ; 
If on the rosy wings of morn, 

I seek the distant western main ; 
There', O my God ! thou still art found. 
Thy pow'r upholds me, and thy arms suRdnnd. 
Thy essence fills this breathing frame. 

It glows in ev'ry conscious part ; 
lights up my soul with livelier flame, 

And feeds with life my beating heart; 
Unfelt akmg my veins it glides. 
And through their mazes rolls the purple tides. 
While in the nlent womb enclos'd, 

A growing embryo yet I lay. 
Thy hand my various parts dispos'd. 

Thy breath infus'd life's genial ray $ 
'Till, finish'd by thy wondrous plan, 
I rose the dread, majestic form of man. 
To thee, from whom my being came. 

Whose smile is all the Ueav*n i know, 
Beplete with all my wondrous theme. 

To thee, my votive strains shall flow : 
Great Archetype ! who first design'd. 
Expressive of thy glory, human kind. 
Who can the stars of Heav'n explore. 

The flow'rs that deck the verdant plain, 
Th' unnumber'd sands that form the shore. 

The drops that swell the spacious main ? 
Let him thy wonders publish itnmd. 
Till Earth and Hear'n't eternal throne icioand. 



As subterFaaeotts flames ooofin'd. 
From Earth's dark womb impetuoos rise. 

The conflagration, fann'd by wind. 
Wraps realms, and blazes to the skies : 

In lightning's flash, and tbunder*s roar. 

Thus vice shall feel the teiqiest of thy pow'n 

Fly then, as for as pole from pole^ 

Ye sons of slaughtar, quick retire ; 
At whose approach my kindling soul 

Awakes to imcRtingttisfa'd ire : 
Fly; nor provoke the thmder's aim. 
You, who in scorn proooonoe th' Atmtgbty's name. 
The wretch who dares thy pow'r deff , 

And on thy vengeance loodly call, 
On him not pity's melting eye. 

Nor partial forour, e^er shall fall : 
Still shall thy foes be mine, still sharo 
Unpity'd torture, and unmix'd despair. 
Behold, O God I behold me stand. 

And to thy strict regard disclose 
Whate'er was acted by my hand, 

WhateVr my inmost thoughts propose z 
If vice indulg*d their candour stain. 
Be all my portion bitterness and pain. 
But,0! if nature, weak and frail. 

To strong temptations oft give way ; 
If doubt, or passion, oft prevail 

O'er wand'ring reason's feeble ray ; 
Let not thy frowns my foult reprove, 
But guide thy creature with a Father's love. 



AN HYMN TO DIVINE LOVE. 

IN IMITATIOW OF SFEIfCtlU 

No more nf lower flames, whose pleasing rage 
With sighs and soft complaints I weakly fed $ 
At whose unworthy shrine, my budding age, 
And willing Muse> their first devotion paid. 
Fly, nurse of madness, to eternal shade : 
Far from my soul abjur'd and hanish'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 present aul implore ; 
At whose celestial voice and pow>rfnl nod 
Old Disoonl fled, and Chaos ceasM to roar. 
Light smii'd, and order rose, unseen before. 
But in the plan of the eternal mhid, [design^. 
When God designed the work, and lov*d the vrork 
Thou fill'di>t the waste of ocean, earth, and air. 
With multitudes that swim, or walk, or fly : 
From rolling worlds descends thy generous caure. 
To insect crowds that 'scape the nicest eye : 
For each a sphere was circumscrlb'd by thee. 
To bless, and to be bless'd, their noblest end ; 
To which, with speedy course, they all onerrin^ 
' tend. 
Consdous of thee, with nobler pow'rs endu'd* 
Next man, thy darling, into being rose. 
Immortal, form'd for fcigh beatitude. 
Which naither end nor interruption knows. 
Till evil, oouch'd in fraud, be^o his woes s 
Then to thy aid was boundless wisdom joined. 
And for apostate man redemptkxi thus deaign'd. 



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By thM, hk gM«i mif d in iaortAl tbiood, 
God's dtfliaff oApring left bit teat <m high | 
And ReaT^and Euth, mamtfdtmd tremMiog ▼iew'd 
Their voandad $Qfv*ni|ni groan, and btaed, and die. 
fiy tbea in triumph to his natitn fky, 
Od angdt wingi, thnndor God atpir'd. 
Relenting jiuticesnuFd and frowmnfvimthrekiv'd. 

To (bee, mimiflc, erer-flammg Lore ! 

Ooe eodien hymn united nature ringi : 

To thee the bright inhabitants above 

Toae the giad voice, and sweep the waiting strings. 

Ffom pole to pdle^ on erer-waving wings. 

Winds waft thy praise, by rolling planets tun*d; 

Aid then, O Love ! my voice to emulate the sound. 
It cooMs ! it oomes ! I feel internal day ; 
TbosftiMve warmth through all my bosom glows $ 
My soul expanding gives the torrent way ; 
Thro* all my vehis it kindles as it flows. 
Thus, ravish'd from the scene of night and woes, 

Ob 1 natch me, bear me to thy happy reign ; 

There teach my tongue thy pnuse in mora exalted 
strain. 



JK HYMN TO BENEVOLENCE. 

Har! source of trenqxnt ever new; 
Whibt thy kind dictates I pursue, 

Itastoajoy ancere; 
Too vast for little mrads to know. 
Who on themselves alooe bestow 

Their wishes and their care, 
fiaughter of God ! delight of man < 
From thee felicity began ; 

Which sUll thy hand sustains: 
By thee sweet Peace her empire spread. 
Fair Scienee rais'd her laurel'd head. 

And DiKord gnashM in chains. 
Ftf as the pointed sunbeam flies, 
Thraugh peopled Earth and starry ikies. 

All Nature owns thy nod : 
We see thy energy prevail 
Through Bang's ever-risinf scale, 

fion nothing «v*a to God. 
Envy, that tortures her own heart 
Wrfh plagiies and ever-bumoig smart. 

Thy channs divine expel : 
Agbast she shuts her livid eyes, 
Aad, wing'd with tenfold fury, flies 

To nativw night and HelL 
By tiiea inqiir'd, the gen'rous breast, 
h blcKing others only blest. 

With goodness large and free, 
SeiigfatB the widow's tears to stoy, 
lb leach the blind their smoothest way. 

And aid the feeble knee. 
come I and o'er my bosom reign, 
Eipand my heart, inflame each vein. 

Thro* ev*i7 action sftine ; 
Each hnr, each selfirii, wiah controul. 
With all thy esnnoe warm my soul, 

Aad nmke ms whoUy thine. 
Nor let foir Virtne^ mortal bane, 
Ths swil cwiiIhHhii thint of gam. 



My faintest wishes sway ; 
By her posses8*d, ere hearts reflne, 
In Hell's dark ddpth shall mercy shine. 

And kindle endless day. 
If from thy lacred paths I turn. 
Nor ieel 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. 



JN HYMN TO FORTITUDE. 

Night, brooding o^er her mute domain. 
In awful silence wraps her reign ; 
Clouds pren 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 burn the veins, and tear the heart. 
The witch, unballowM bones to ndae, 
Through fan*ral vaults and cbamels strays ; 
Calls the damn'd shade from evVy cell. 
And adds new labours to their Hell. , 

And, shield me Heaven ! what hollow sound, 
Like fate's dread knell, runs echoing round ? 
The bell strikes ooe, that magic hour. 
When rising fiends exert their pow'r. 
And now, sure now, some ctfuse unblast 
Breathes more than horroor thro' my breast t 
How deep the breeze ! how dim the light ! 
What spectres swim before my sight 1 
My fhnen limbs pale terrour chains. 
And in wild eddies wheels my brains : 
My icy blood forgets to roll. 
And death ev'n seetns 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 I 
Descend, an amicable guest. 
And with thy firmness steel my breast : 
Descend propitious to my lays, 
And, while my lyre resounds thy praise. 
With energy divinely strong, 
Eialt my soul, and warm my song. 

When raving in eternal patus, ' 
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 m'ght. 
The cursed monster wing'd her flight. 
Pale Fear, among her hideous train, 
Chas'd sweet Contentment from her reign; 
Plae*d Death and Hell before each eye. 
And wrapt in mist the golden sky ; 
Banish'd from day each dear daligfat. 
And shook with conscious starts the night 



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BLACKCOCK'S POEMS. 



WbeD, from th' imperial Msfai on hjgb. 
The Lord of nature tarn'd bis eye 
To viewtbe^tateof thiogibelo^i 
Still blest to make bis creatures so : 
From Eartb be saw Astnea fly, 
And seek her mansions in tbe sky ; 
Peace, crovn*d with olives, left her tbrooa. 
And wbite-rob'd Innocence was gone : 
While Vice, revealM in open day. 
Sole tyrant rulM with iron si^ay ; 
And Virtue veiPd her weeping cbarms. 
And fled for refuge to bis arms. 
Her altars scom'd, ber shrines defaced— 
Whom thus th' essential Good addressU 

" Thou, whom my soul adores alone, 
Effulgent sbaier of my throne. 
Fair empress of eternity ! 
Who uncreated reign*Bt like me ; 
Whom I, who sole and boundlen fway, 
With pleasure infinite obey : 
To yon diurnal scenes below. 
Who feel their folly in their woe. 
Again propitious turn thy flight. 
Again oppose yon tyrant's might ; 
To Earth thy ckmdless charms disclose, 
Bevive thy friends, aind blast thy foes : 
Thy triumphs man shall raptur'd see. 
Act, suffer, live, and die for thee. 
But since all crimes their Hell contain* 
Since all must feel who merit pain. 
Let Fortitude thy steps attend. 
And be, like tbee, to man a friend ; 
To urge him on tbe arduous road. 
That leads to virtue, bliss, and Qod ; 
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 shiney 
To Earth retnmM with all her train. 
And brought the golden age again. 
Since erring mortals, unconstrain'd. 
The God, that warms their breast, profon'd. 
She, guardian of their joys no more. 
Could only leave them, and d^lore : 
They, now th^easy prey of pain, 
Curst in their wish, their choice obtain ; 
Till arm'd with Heav'n and fate, she came 
Her destin'd honours to reclaim. 
Vice and her slaves beheld her flight. 
And fled, like birds obscene, from light. 
Back to th' abode of plagues return. 
To sin and smart, blaspheme and bum. 

Thou, goddess ! since, with sacred aid. 
Hast ev'ry grief and pain allay'd. 
To joy converted ev'ry smart, 
And plac'd a Heav'n m ev'r^ heart : 
By th^ we act, by thee sustain. 
Thou sacred antidote of pain ! 
At thy great nod the Alps < subside, 
Reluctsnt rivers turn their tide ; 
With all thy fbrce Alcides warm'd, 
His hand against oppressioa arm'd : 
By thee his mighty nerves were strung, 
By tbee his strength for ever young ; 
And whilst on brutal force he press'd, 
His vigodr, with his foes, increas'd. 

I Allnding to tbe histoiy of Hannibal, 



By thee, 1^ jQTO*a alnigMy fcMd^ /^ 
AmbitionVbavoek to withstand, 
Timoleon > rase, the soourge of fete. 
And hori'd a tyrant from bis state ; 
The brother ro bis sonl aubdn'd. 
And warm'd tbe poniard in his hkiod ; 
A sooi by so much virtue fir'd. 
Not Greece alone, but Heav'n admir'd. 

But in these dregs of human kind. 
These days to guilt and fear resigned. 
How rara such views the heart elate ! 
To brave the last extremes of Fate ; 
Like Heavla's almighty pow'r serene. 
With fix'd regard to view tbe soene, 
When Nature quakes beneath the storm. 
And Honour wean its direst from. 
Tho^ futura worlds ara now descry'd, 
Tho' Paul has writ, and Jesus dyM, ' 
DispellM tbe dark infernal shade, 
And all the Heav'n of Heav'ns display'd; 
Curst with onnumber'd groundless fears. 
How pale yon shiv'ring wretch appears ! 
For him the day-light shines in vain. 
For him the fields no jojrs contain ; 
Nature's whole charms to him are lost. 
No more the woods their music boast; 
No more the mods then-vernal bloom. 
No more the gales thnr rich perfnme s 
Impending mists deform the sky. 
And beauty withers iu his eye. 
In hopes his terrour to elud#. 
By day he mingles with the crowds 
Yet finds his soul to feais a prey. 
In busy crowds, and open day. 
If night his lonely walk surprise. 
What horrid^ visions round him rise ; 
That blasted'oak, which meets bis way, * 

Shown by the meteor's sudden ray. 
The midnight murd'rer's known retreat^ 
JPelt Heav'n's avengeful bolt of late ; 
The clashing chain, the groan profound. 
Loud from yon niin'd tow'r resound ; 
And now the spot Ue teems to tread. 
Where some self-^anghter'd corse was laid : 
He feels fixt Earth beneath him bend. 
Deep murmurs from her caves ascend ; 
Till all his soul, by fency sway'd, 
Sees lurid phantoms crowd the shade ; 
While shrouded manes palely stara. 
And beck'ntng wish to breathe their care : 
Thu^ real woes from felse be bean. 
And feels the death, the HeU, he fears. 

O thou 1 whose spirit wanna my aoqg. 
With energy divinely strong. 
Erect bis soul, confirm his breast. 
And let him kitow the sweets of rest ^ 
Till eVry human pain and care. 
All that may be, and all that are, 
But felse imagin'd ills appear 
Beneath our hope, our grief, or fear. 
And, if I right invoke thy aid. 
By thee be all my woes allay'd ; 
With scorn instruct me to defy 
Imposing fear, and lawless joy | 

s Timoleon, having long in vain importuned his 
brother to resign the despotism of Cbrinth, at 
last restored the Itbeity of the people by stabbing 
him. VidePLUT« 



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To itiiig{l6 thro Hilt 106116 Or fltrinif 

The paiPB of death, the paagi of life* 

With ooQiUnt brow to meet my fate. 

And meet itil) more, Euanthe's halB. 

And, vfacn lome iwain her ctaanns thall elthB^ 

Who feeb not half my gen*roin flame, 

Whote cares her angel-Toioe beguiles, 

On whom the bendt her hearty smileai 

For whom the weepg, Ibr whom she glowi; 

On whom her treasarM Mtil bestows ; 

When perfect mutual joy tbty share* 

Ah i joy eohaoc'd by my de^mir 1 

Mil bdnp io each ttaming ki«, 

Aod blest, still rise to higher blita s 

Tbra, then, awit thy otnost powV» 

And teach me being to endure; 

Lcit reason from the helm should itaity 

Aod lawless fury rale my heart ; 

Lest madness all my soul subdue. 

To ask her Maker, what dost thou ? 

Yet, coold^st thou in that dreadful hour. 

On my rack*d soul all Lethe pour. 

Or &n me with the gelid breeze. 

That chains io ice th* iodignant seu; 

Or wrap my heart in tenfold steel, 

1 itill am man, aod still must feel. 



THE WISH SATBOPIED, 
AN.nUftEOULAE ODB. 

Too long, my soul I tbou'rt tost below, 

From hope to hope, from fear to fear : 
How great, how larting ev'ry woe! 

Each joy how short, how insincere I 
Tom around thy eaarchmg eyes 
Thro' all the bright varietieei 

And, with exactest care. 
Select from all the shmlng crowd. 
Some lastiDg joy, some sov'reign good. 

And fix thy wishes there. 
With toil amam a mighty store 
Of glowiqg stones, or yellow ore ; 
Pbat the fields with golden grain, 
Ctawd with lowiog hods the plain, 
Kd the mmble domes ascend, 
ttd the pleasant view extend. 
Streams and grovws and woods ^ipear. 
And spring and autumn fill the year : 
I Sore, these are joys, ftill, permsaient, sincere ; 
Soie, now each boundless wish can adL no more. 

On roses now reclined, 

I bngoish Into rest ; 
Kb vacuum in my mind. 

No craTing wish noblest ; 
Butahl in vain. 
Some aboent joy sdll gives me pain. 

By toys elated, or by toys depreit 
What mcHiii g joy can sooth my grief? 
I What bafaay pleasure yield my soul relief } 
lli found ; the bUss already wanm, 
Sbak in love's peranasrre armi^ 

Enjoying and ciQoy*d 
To taste variety of charms 

Bt CT^ry ha^ hour employU 



' 



As the .cpeedy moiAeHts rofl. 

Let some new joy conspire i 
Hebe, fill the rosy bowl ; 

Orpheus, tun4 the lyre ; 
To new-born rapture wake the loul, « 

And kindle young detire : 
While, a beauteous choir around. 
Tuneful virgins join the sound. 
Panting bosoms, speaking eyes. 
Yielding smiles, and tremblmg sighs : 
Thro* meltrog erroor let thenr voices rove, 
And trace th' enchanting maae of harmony and love* 
sun, stiU insa^te of deUgfat 

My wishes open, as my joys increase : 
What now shall stop their restless flight. 

And yleM them kind redress } 
For something still unknown 1 sigh. 
Beyond what sUrikes the touch, the earner eye> 
Whence shall I seek, or how pursue 
The phantom, that eludea my view. 

And cheats my fend embrace } 
Thus, while her w«nton toils fend Pieasmw ^picid^ 
By sense and passion blindly led, 
I chas'd the syren thro' the flow*ry maae. 
And courted death ten thousand ways : 
Kind Heav'n beheld, with pitying eyes^ 
My restlem toil, my fruitlen sighs ; 
And, from the realms of endless d«y, 
A bright immortal wing'd his way ; 
Swift as asun-heam down he flew. 
And stood dischia'd, effiilgent to my view* 
*' Fond man, he ery'd, thy fruiUem seareh fcibotri 
Nor vuinly hope, within this narrow sphere^ 
A certain happiness to find, 
Unbounded as thy wish, eternal as thy mind : 
In Qod, in perfect good alone. 

The anxious soul can And rqpoee | 
Nor to a bliis beneath his throne. 

One hour of full enjoyoaent owes : 
He, only he^ can fill each wide desire. 

Who to each wish its being gave ; 
Not all the charms which morUl wishes fire. 
Not all whkrh angels in the skies admire. 

But God's paternal smile, can bid it oeaaa to cravib 
Him then pursue, without delay ; 
He is thy price, aod virtue is thy way." 
Then to the winds his radiant plumes he spread, 
And from my wQod'riug eyes, more swift thi^i light* 

ningfled. 



AN ODE TO HAPPINESS. 

Tn morning dawns, the ev'nfng shades 
Fur Nature's various fece dbguise ; 

No scene to rest my heart persuades. 
No moment frees from tears mjr 6ym : 

Whate'er once charm'd the laughing hour. 

Now boasts no more its pleasing pow'r; 

Each former dtgect of delight. 

Beyond redemption, wings its flight ; 

And, where it smii'd, tiie darling of my sight, 
Proqiects of woe and horrid phaatoom rise. 

O HappoMMl fanmortal ftir. 

Where does thy subtile enence dwell } 
Dost thou relax the hermit's care^ 
Compomon in the lonely cell ? 



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BLACKLQCK'S POEMS. 



Or, dost thou on the sunoy plaift 
Inspire the reed, and cheer the svaia ? 
Or, scornful of each low retreat. 
On fortune's fi&vour dost thou wait ; 
And, in the gilded chambers of the great. 

Protract the revel, and the pleasure swell ? 
Ah me ! the hermit^s cell explore; 

Thy absence he, |tke me, complains ; 
While munn'ring streams along the shore. 

Echo the love-sick shepherd's strains : 
Nor, where the gilded domes aspire, 
Betgn'st thou, O goddess ! to retire : 
Though there the Loves and Graces play, 
Though wine and music oooit thy stay ; 
Thou fly'st, alas ! and who can trace thy way, 

Or say what place thy heav'oAy ^rm contains ? 
If to mankind I turn my view, 

Flatter'd with hopes of social joy ; 
Rapinf and blood ' mankind pursue. 

As God had formed them to dettrny. 
Discord, at whose tremendous view 
Heil lyoakcfl with horroiir ever new. 
No more by endless night deprest. 
Pours-all her venom thro* each breast ; 
And, while deep groans and carnage are increas'd, 

Smiles griip, the rising mischief to enjoy. 
** Hence, hence, indignant turn thine eyes,'* 

To my dejected soul I said; 
" See, to the shade Enantbe flies. 

Go, find Euanthe in the shade : 
Her angel-ibrm thy sight shall charm. 
Thy heart her angel-goodness warm ; 
There, shall no wants thy steps pursue. 
No wakeful care contract thy brow ; 
Music each sound, and beauty ev'ry view. 

Shall ev*ry sense with full delight mvade." 
Exulting in the charming thought, 

Thither with hasty steps I press ; 
And while th' enchanting maid I sought, 

Tbank'd HeavHi for all my past distress : 
Increasing hopes my journey cheer'd, 
And now in reach the Miss appear*d ; 
'' Grant this sole boon, O Fate !» I cryM ; 
Be all thy other gifts deny*d. 
In this shall all my wishes be snpply'd ; 

Andaure a love like mine deserves no less.'' 

In vain, alas ! in vain my prayV ; 

Fate mix'd the accents with the wind ; 
Th' illusive form dissolved in air. 

And left my soul to grief resign'd : 
As for from all my hopes she flics 
As deepest seat from loftiest sHiM : 
Yet, still, on foncy deep hnprest. 
The sad, the dear ideas rest ; 
Yet still the recent sorrows heave my breast. 

Hang black o'er life, and prey upon my mind. 
Ah ! goddess, scarce to moftals known. 

Who with thy shadow madly stray. 
At length from Heav'n, thy sacred throne^ 

Dart thro' my soul one cheerfuj ray : 
Ah ! with some sacred lenient art. 
Allay the anguish of my heart ; 
Ah ! teaeh me, patient to sustain 
Life's various stores of grief and pain i 
Or, if I thus prefer my pray'r in vain, 

Soon let me find thee in eternal day. 

' This ode was written in the year n45» 



ON EVAHTEB^S ABSENCE. 
AN ODE. 

BLBSTHeav*n! and thou fair world belov I 

Is there no cure to sooth my smart? 
No balm to heal a loveifs woe. 
That bids his eyes for ever flow. 

Consumes his soul, and pines his heart I 
And will no friendly arm above 
Relieve my tortur'd soul from love? 
As swift^esoending showers of rain, 

Defonn with mud the clearest streams^ 
As rising mists HeavVs azure stain, 
iTing*d with Auroca's blush in vmin ; 

As fiules the flow'r in mid-day beams : 
On life thus tender sorrows prey. 
And wrap in gloom its promts'd day. 
Ye plains, where dear Euanthe strays, 

Ye various objects of her view, 
Bedeck'd in beauty's brightest blaze ; 
.Let all its fbrms, and all its rays, 

Wbere-e'er she turns, her eyes pursue t 
,AII fair, as she, let Nature shine : 
Ah ! then, how lovely ! how divine ! 
Where-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 mounUins mark the bound ; 
That each fair scene which strikes her efe^ 
Msy charm with sweet variety. 
Ye streams, that, in perpetual flow. 

Still warble on your mazy way, 
Murmur Euanthe, as you go; 
Murmur a love-sick poet's woe: 

Ye feather'd warblers, johi the lay ; 
Sing how I suffer, how complain ; 
Yet name not him who feels the pain. 
And thou, eternal ruling Pow'r ! 

if spotless virtue claims thy care. 
Around unheard of blessings show'r; 
Let son»e new pleasure crown each hour, 

And make her blest, as good and fair: 
Of all thy works, to mortals known. 
The best and fairest she alone. 



AN ODE TO A YOVNO GENTLEMAN, 

Bovxn roa cvinba. 

Arrsyn the Muse, whose numbers flow 
Faithfol to sacred friendship's woe ; 

And let the Sootian lyre 
Obtain thy pity and thy care : 
While thy lov'd walks and native nir 

The solemn sounds in^ire. 

That native air, these walks, no more 
Blest with their fav'rite, now deplore. 

And join the plaintive strain : 
Wliile, urg'd by winds and waves, he flies, 
VMiere unknown- stars, thro' unknown skiei^ 

Their trackless course maintain. 
Yet think ; by ev'ry keener smart. 
That thrills a firiend or brother's heart; 



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191 



Sf an the grieK^ that rise. 
And with dumb anguish heave thy breaity 
Vflm absence robe thy soul of rest. 

And fiiells with tears the eyes : 
By all oor aonrows ever new, 
Think when yoa fty, and what pnnoe ; 

And judge by yonr's our pain : 
Final friendships dear tenacious aims. 
Yon fly, pwhsys, to wars alarms. 

To ai^grj akics and main. 
The smifiof plain, the solemn shade. 
With all the varioas ch«rnis display VI, 

TYat Sanuiier*s hce adorn ; 
Sommer, with all that's gay or sweet, 
With tranqtort longs thy sense to meet. 

And ooorts thy dear return. 
Hie gentle Son, the fiinning gale, 
The vocal wood, the ikmgrant tale, 

Thy preaence all implore: 
Can then a waste of sea and sky. 
That knows no limits, charm thine eye. 

Thine ear the tempest's roar^ 
But why sach weak attractions nams; 
While ev'ry warmer social claim 

Demnnds the mouroftil lay ? 
Ah ! hear a brother's moving rigbs. 
Thro' tean, behold a sister's eyes 

Emit a faded ray. 
Tby yoong allies, by Nature taught 
To'fed the tender pang of thmight 

Which friends in absence claim { 
To tbee, with soirow all-nnoere. 
Oft pay the tributary tear. 

Oft lisp with joy thy name. 
Nor these tby absetice moom alone, 
O dearly lovM ! thd' faintly known ; 

One yet unsnng remains : 
Nature, when scarce fair light he knew, 
Soatch'd Heav'n, Earth, beauty from his view. 

And darkness round him reigna. 
The Mose with pHy view'd his doom j 
And, darting thro* th' eternal gloom 

An intellectual ray. 
Bade him with music's voice inspire 
The plaintive flute, the sprightly lyi«, 

And tune th' impa»ion'd lay. 

Thus, Uio' despairing of relief, 

Wiih ev'ry mark of heart-felt grief, ' 

Thy absence we complain : 
While now, perhaps, th' auspicious gale 
Invites to spread the flying sail. 

And all our tears are vain. 
Protect him Heav'n : but hence each fear ; 
Since endless goodness, endless care 

This mighty fabric guides ; 
Commands the tempest where to stray, 
DtrecU the lightning's slanting way. 

And rales the refluent tides. 
See, from th' effulgence of his reign. 
With pleased survey, Omniscienee deign 

Thy wondrous worth to view : 
See, ftmn the realms of endless day. 
Immortal guardians wing their way. 

And all thy steps punue. 
If saUe clooda, whose wombs cooUin 
l^he mnrm^ring bolt, of dashing rain, 



The blue serene deform ; * 
Myriads from Heav'n's etherial height^ 
Shall clear the gloom, restore the light. 

And chase th' impending storm. 



j4n irregular ode, 

SIKT TO A LAOV OM UlS KAEaiAOa-mT. 

Wrm all 3'onr wings, ye moments, fly, 

And drive the taniy Sun along ; 
mi that glad morn shall paint the sky, [song. 

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 happy day ; 
See, the wish'd -for dawn appears, 
A more than wonted glow she wears : 

Harkl Hymeneals sound ; 
Each Muse awakes her softest lyre ; 
£ach airy warbler swells the choir ; 

Tis music all around. 
Awake, ye nymphs, the blushing bride, 
T'eclipse Aurora's rosy pride ; 
While virgin shame retards her way. 
And Love, half>angry, chides her stay: 
While hopes and fears alternate reign. 
Intermingling bliss and pain ; 
O'er all her charms diffuse peculiar gnoe^ 
Pant in her shiv'ring heart, and vary in her froa. 
At length consent, reluctant fair. 

To bless thy long-expecting lover's eyes f 
Too long his sighs are lost in air. 

At leagth resign the bliss for which he diesr 
The Muses, prescient of your future jay% 

Dilate my soul, and prompt the-cheerful lay; 
While they, thro' coming times, with glad surprise. 

The long suooessive brightning scenes survey. 
TiO ! to your sight a blooming dbpring rise. 
And add new ardour to the nuptial ties; 

While in each form you both united shine ; 
Fresh honours wait your temples to adorn $ 
For you glad Ceref fills the flowing horn, 

And Heav'n and fete to bless your days oooAbine. 
While life gives pleasure, lii^ shall still remain. 
Till Death, with gentle hand, shall shut the pleas* 
ing scene : * 

Safe, sable guide to that celestial shore, [no more I 
Where pleasure knows no end, and change is fear'd 



TO A COSUETTB, 

AN ODE. 

At length, vain, airy flutt'rsr, fly > 
Nor vex the public car and eye 

With all this noise aofl glare : 
Thy wiser kipdred guaU behold 
All shrouded in their parent mould. 

Forsake the chilling air. 
Of conquest there they safely dream ; 
Nor gentle breeze, nor trimsisBt glfais^ 



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BLACKL0CK9 POEM& 



Allures them fbrtfi to play : 
But thou, alike in firott and flamep 
Insatiate of the cruel ^me. 

Still on mankind wonld'st prey/ 

thy coniciotts charms, thy pracUs'd arts. 

Those adventitious Kams that round thee shiitei 
Iteserve for unexperieocM hearts : 

Superior spells despair to conquer mine. 
€k>, bid the stinshme of thine eyes 
Melt rigid winter, warm the skies. 

And set the rivers free ; 
O^'er fields immers'd in frost and snow, 
- Kd flowers with smiling verdure grow ; 

Then hope to soften me. 

Vo, Heav'n and freedom witness bear, 
This heart no secodd frowtf shflll fear, 

No second yoke sustsun ; 
Enough of female scorn I know ; 

Scarce fate could break my chalrf. 
Ye hours, consumed in hopeless pain. 

Ye trees, inscribed with many a flsiming vow. 
Ye echoes, oft invoked in vain. 

Ye moon-light walks, ye tinkling rill's, adieu I 
Your paint that idle iiearts controls ; 
Your fairy nets for feeble souls. 

By partial fancy wrought ; 
Your syren voice, your tempting air. 
Your borrowed visage fiilsely fair. 

With me avail you nought* 

Let ev'ry ebarm that wakes desire^ 
het eaeh insnaring art coospire ; 

Not all can hurt my rest: 
Trach'dby Ithuriel's ^ potent spetfr. 
At once unmask'd the fiends appear, 

In native blackness drest. 
The speakmg ghinoe, the heaving breast. 

The cheek with lihes ting'd and rosy dye ; - 
Ulilse joys, which ruin all who taste. 

How swift they^fade in reason's pierdi^ eye I 
Seest thoa yon taptr*s vivid ray, 
Which emulates the blaze of day. 

Diffusing far its light ? 
Tho* it from bUsts shall stand secure. 
Time urges on the destined boor. 
And, lo ! it sinks in night 
Such is thy glory, such iti date, 
^av'd by the sportive hand of &te, 

A while to catch our view : 
Nov bright to Hcav'n the blaze aspires. 
Then sijdden from our gaze retires. 
And yields to wonders new. 
Like this poor torch, thy haughty airs. 

Thy short»liv>d splendour on a puff depends ; 
And, soon as fate the stroke prepares. 

The flash in dntt and nameous vapuurs ends. 



AV ODE 

ON THB REFINEMENTS IN METAPHYSICAL 
PHILOSOPHY. 

fcsl wisdom, fly, with all thy owls • ; 
dnst and cobwebs of the ichoob 
> See Paradise Lost, book !▼, verse 810. 
* Formeriy the bird of Minervt, but by tb« mo- 
4pnii aacribe^ to DttUowi. 



For me have charms no more i 
The gross Minerva of our days, 
In mighty bulk my learned Essays ^ 

Reads joyful o*er and o*er. 
Led by her hand a length of tioae. 
Thro* sense and nonsense, prose and riiyne> 

I beat my painful way ^ 
Long, long, revolv'd Ibe mystic page 
Of many a Datch and German sage. 

And hop'd at last for day. 
But, as the mole, hid uivisr grouod. 
Stilt works n^ore dark as more profound^ 

So all my toils were vain t 
For truth and sense indignant fly^ 
As far as ocean from the skyj 

From all the formal train. 

The Stagyrite «, whose fruitful quitf 
O'er free-bom nature lords it still, 

SustainM by form and phrase 
Of dire portent an4 solemn sound. 
Where meaning seldom can be found/ 

From me shall gain no praise^ 
But you, who would be truly wise. 
To Nature's light unveil your eyes,- 

Her gentle call obey j 
She leads by no |ahe wand 'ring glarCf^ 
No voice ambiguous strikes your ear/ 

To bid you vainly stray. 
Not in the gloomy eell rechise. 
For noble deeds or gen'rous views/ 

She bids us w%tch the night ; 
Fair Virtue shines, to all display'd. 
Nor asks the tardy schoolmao^s aid/ 

To teach us what is right. 
Pleasore and paia the sets in view. 
And which to shun, and which punue, . 

• Instructs ber pupil's heart 3 
Then, lette^d pride, say, what thy gaiii^ 
To maak, with ao much fruitless pain. 

Thy ignorance with art ? 
Thy stiff grimaee, and awfUl tone. 
An idkit's woniler move alone $ 

And, spite of all thy rules. 
The wise in ev'ry age ooockide. 
Thy foirest prospects, rightly viewed/ 

The Paradise of Fools. 
The gamester's hope, when doom'd to lose. 
The jo]rs 6i wine, the wanton's vows. 

The faithless calm at sea. 
The courtier's word, the crowd's applause. 
The Jesuit's faith, the sense of laws» 

Are not more &lse than thee. 

Blest he I who sees, without surprise. 
The various systems fall and rise. 

As shifb the fickle gale ; 
While ail their utmost force esert. 
To wound the foe^ unguarded part. 

And all alike prevail. 



' The author, like others of greater nnme^ had 
formeriy attempted to demonstrate matters of fact 
4 priori. 

* Aristotle, inventor of ■yllngiiMiii air s«cb ooly 
mentioned herob 



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ODE ON THE DEATH OP AN INFANT. 



^9S 



Thot (acred huAi < of jrore hvrt tung), 
Hifh HeiT'n with Diartial clajoours rung, 

And deedt of mortal wrath ; 
Wbeo CFuies mod pigoues glory sought, 
Aod io the fields of ether foiigbt. 

With matDal wounds and death. 
Ijet Logie*s soos» mechanic throng. 
Their syllogistic war prolong. 

And reason's empire boast ; 
Imhrin'd in deep congenial gloom. 
Eternal wrangling be their doom^ 

To truth and nature lost ! 
AmosM by fiincy*s fleeting fire, 
Let Malebraoche & still for Trhth loquirQ, 

And rack his aching sight t 
While the coy goddess wings her way. 
To scenes of uncreated day» 

Absorb'd in daxzKng light. 
With firmer step and graTer gnifte. 
Whilst Locke <^ m conscious triumph tries, 

H<^ dwelling to explore ; 
Swift she eludes hb ardent chace, 
A shadow courts his fmd embrace. 

Which Uobbes f caressed before. 
Let Uodwell • with th« fathers join* 
To strip of energy divine 

The heav'o-deicended soul ; 
The test of sense let Berkley ^ scorn. 
And both on borrowed pinions home. 

Annihilate the whole. 
In academic Tales retir'd. 
With Pfaito*s love and beauty fiHd, 

My steps let et»dour guide ; 
Bt tenets vain unpreposscst. 
Those lawless tyrants of the brf ast, 

Ofi*pring of zeal and pride ! 
Or, while thro* Nature's walks I stray, 
WooU Truth's bright source emit one ray, 

And alt my soul inflame ; 
Citation, and her honnteoos laws. 
Her order fiz*d, her glorious cause^ 

SbouU be my &T'rite theme. 



jSNODB 
TOMR&E-— ^ 



Ofl TBI SBATH OF A mOMISUia INFANT. 

Wmte, toncfa'd with all thy tender pain, 
The Moaes breathe a mournful strain, 

* See Homer. 

^ He tiMMight the medium, by which sensible per- 
ceptions were oooreyed to us, was God ; in whose 
(SMnee truth was seen, as In a mirror. 

< His aecuunt of virtue diifers not moch from that 
of the leviathan. 

''IVe aothor of the last mentioned pioee ; who 
denied the distinction between vice and virtue, and 
aflbmed power and right to be the same. 

' He attempted to prove the natural mortality 
of the aonl, and quoted the fhthers in favour of his 



* Anther of Dialoguet on the Non-esistcnce 
Matter. 
Vol. XVUt 



O I lift thy languid eye ! 
O ! deign a caloi auspicious ear ; 
The Muse shall 3ueid 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 mnrm'rmg on his trembling tongue 
Eurydice imperfect hung, 

Tlvi nine could more complain. 

Ah ! say, harmonious sisters, say : 
When swift, to pierce the lorely prey. 

Fate took its cniel aim ; 
When lanpuish'd evVy tender grace, 
Each op'ning bloom that ting*d his fkce^ 

And pangs convuls'd his frame : 

Say, could no song of melting woe. 
Revoke the keen determm'd blow. 

That clos*d his sparkling eye ? 
Thus roses oft, by eariy doom, 
Robb*d of their blush and sweet perfume. 

Grow pale, recline, and die. 

Pale, pale and cold the beauteous frame I 
Nor salient pulse, nor vital flame, 

A mother's hopes restore : ' 
In vain keen anguish tears her breast. 
By eT*ry tender mark exprest. 

He lives, he smiles no more 1 

Such is the fate of human kind ; 
The fairest form, the brightest mind. 

Can no exemption know : 
The mighty mandate of the sky, 
" That man when bom begins to die,'* 

Extends to all below. 

In vain a mother's pmy'rs a^^end. 
Should nature to her sorrows lend 

The native voice of smart ; 
In ^n would plaints their force essay 
To hold precarious life one day. 

Or Fate's dread hand avert. 

Fix'd as the rock that braves the main, 
Fix'd as the poles that all sustain. 

Its purpose stands secure : 
The humble hynd who toils for bread. 
The soepier'd hand, the taurel'd head. 

Alike oonfen itt poWr. 

Since time began, thft stream of woes « 
Akmg its rapid current flows ; 

Still swells the groan prolband ; 
While age, re-echoing still to age. 
Transmits the annals of its rage. 

And points the recent wound. 

When human hopes sublimest tow'r,' 
Then, wanton in th' excess of pow'r 

The tyrant throws them down ; 
The orphan early robb'd of aid, 
The widow*d wife, the plighted maid. 

His sable triumph crown. 

At length to life and joy return ; 
Man was not destined sriU to mourn, 

A prey to endless pafn : 
Heav*n*s various hand, the heart to form. 
With bliss and anguish, calm and storm, 

Diversifies the scene : . 

O 



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BLACKLOCK'S POEMS 



But bkles with care from hmnan eyes. 
What bliss beyond this prospect lies ; 

Lest we, with life opprest. 
Should grieve its burden to endare. 
And, with excursion premature^ 

Pursue eternal rest. 
From disappointment, grief, and care. 
From every pang of sharp despair, 

TTiy charmer wings hts way ; 
And, while new scenes his bosom fire. 
He learns to strike the golden lyre. 

And Heav*n resounds his lay. 
Lo I where his sacred reliques lie, 
Immortal guardians from the sky 

Their silver wings display ; , 
Till, bright emerging from the tomb. 
They rise to Heaven, their destinM home, 

And hail eternal day. 



AN ODE. 

WRITTEN WHBW SICK. 

O PRTMB of life ! O taste of joy ! 
Whither so early do you fly ? 
Scarce half your transient sweetness kDOwn, 
Why arc you vanish'd ere full-blown ^ 

TikQ beauteous progeny of spring, 
That tinge the zephyr's fragrant wing^ 
Each tender bfoom, each short-livM flowV^ 
Still flourish till their destin>*d hour : 
Your winter too, too soon will come. 
And chill in death your vernal bloom. 

On my wan cheek the colour dies, 
Snflus'd and languid roll mine eyes; 
Cold horrours thrill each sick'ning vein; 
Beep broken sighs my bosom strain ; 
The salient pttlse of health gives o'er. 
And life and pleasure are no more. 



AN ODE 

TO HEALTH. 

MoTBEA of all human joys. 
Rosy cheeks, and sparkling eyet;^ 
In whose traia, for ever gay. 
Smiling Loves and Ghraees play: 
If complaints thy soul can move. 
Or music charm, the voice of Love t 
Hither, goddess, ere too late, 
Tam,und stop impending fi&te. 

Over earth, and sea, and sky. 
Bid thy airy heralds fly ; 
With each balm which Nature yields 
IVom the gardens, groves, and fields^ 
From each flow*r of varied hue, 
From each herb that sips the dew. 
From each tree of fragrant bloom. 
Bid the gales their wings perfume ; 
And, around fair Celia's h^ad. 
All the mingled incense shed : 
Till each living sweetness rise. 
Paint her cheeks, and aim her eycs^ 



Mild as ev'ning's humid rav. 
Yet awful as the blaze of day. 

Celia if the fates restore. 
Love and beauty weep no more : 
But if they snatch the lovely prize. 
All that's fiiir in Celia dies. 



AN ODE 



TO A LITTLS GIRL WBOM I BAD OFriMDBO S 

wRrrrsN at twelve years of ace. 

How long shall I attempt in rain 
Thy smiles, my aneel, to regain ? 
ril kiss your hand, IMl weep, ril kneel : 
Will nought, fair tsrruit, reconcile ? 
That goldfinch, with her painted wings. 
Which gayly looks, and sweetly sings ^ 
That, and if aught I have more fine. 
All, all ujy charmer, shall be thine. 

When next mamma shall prove severe, 
I'll interpose, and save my dear. 
Soften, my fair, those angry eyes. 
Nor tear, thy heart with broken sighs : 
Think, while that tender breast they strain^ 
For thee what anguish I sustain. 

Should but thy fair companions view. 
How ill that frown becomes thy brow ; 
With fear and grief in ev'ry eye. 
Each would to each, astonished, cry, 
" Hea^ns ! where is all her sweetness flown t 
How strange a figure now she's grown t 
Run, Nancy, let us run, lest we 
Grow pettish, aukward things, as she." 

'TIS done, tis done ; my cherub smiles. 
My griefs suspends, my fears beguiles : 
How the quick pleasure heaves my breast I 
Ah ! still be kind, and I'U be blest I 



TO LESBIA. 

TftANStATED PRQM CATVtLUS. 

Tho^ soor, loquacious age reprove. 
Let us, my Lesbia, live for love : 
For, when the sbort-liv'd suns declme^ 
They but retire more bright ta shine: 
But we, when fleeting life is o'er 
And light and love can bless no more; 
Are ravish'd from each dear delight. 
To sleep one long eternal night. 
Give me of 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. 
Scarce thought can reach, or tongue can tM $, 
Let us on kisses kisses crowd. 
Till number sink m multitude ; 
Lest our full bliss should limits knoir» 
And othen, numbering, envioiis grow. 



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SONGS. 



19s 



A TRANSLATION 

Of AH I 

OLD SCOTTISH SOSG. 

Snci fobb*d of all tbat charmM my new. 

Of all my soul e'er fiucied fair. 
Ye uniliof native scenes, adieu ! 

With each delightful object there. 
Te vales, which to the raptar'd eye 

DbclosM the flow*ry pride of May ; 
Te eircling hills, whose sommits high 

BhishM with the rooming's earliest ray*t 
Where, heedless oft how far I stray'd. 

And pleas'd my ruin to pursue ; 
I mg my dear, my cruel maid : 

Adiea for erer ! ah ! adieu ! 
Ye dear aswciates of my breast, 

Wboae hearts with speechless sorrov swell ; 
And thou, with hoary age opprest. 

Dear aothor of my lifc, farewel 1 

For me, alas * thy fruitless tears. 

Far, fisr remote from friends and home. 
Shall blast thy venerable years» 

And bend thee pining to the tomb* 
Shaip are the pangs by nature felt. 

Pram dear relations torn away. 
Yet sharper pangs my viuls melt. 

To hopeless love a destin'd prey 1 
While she, as angry Heav*n and main 

Deaf to the helpless sailor's pray'r, 
Exgoys my soul-consuming pain, 

And wantons with my deep dapair. 
fnm coned gold what ills arise ! 

What horronrs life's fair prospect stain ! 
Friends blast their friends with angry eyet, 

And brothers bleed, by brothers slain. 
Fran cursed gold I trace my woe ; 

Could I this splendid mischief boast, 
Nor would my tears unpitied flow, 

Nor would my sighs in air be lost 
Ah ! when a mother's cruel care 

Nttn'd me an infant on the breast. 
Had early fate surpris'd me there. 

And wrapt me in eternal rest : 
Then had this breast ne'er leam'd to beat» 

And tremble with unpitied pain; 
Kor bad a maid's relentless hate. 

Been, ev'n in death, deplor'd in vain. 
Oft, in the pleasing toib of love. 

With ev'ry winning art I try'd 
To Catch the coyly flotfring dove. 

With killing eyes and plumy pride : 
But, far on nimble pinions borne 

From love's warm gales and flow'ry plains. 
She sought the northern climes of scorn. 

Where ever-freezing wmter reigns. 
Ah me ! had Heav'n and she prov'd kind. 

Then full af age, and free from care. 
Bow Uest had I my life resign'd. 

Where first 1 breath'd this vital air I 
Bat rince no flatt'ring hope remains. 

Let me my wretched kA pursoe : 

Adieu, dear friends, and native scenes, 

To all, hoi giief and tore, adiaa ! 



A SONG: 



It) TBI TaVl or THS BRASS OF BAlLAKDTKSt 

Bbniath a green shade, a lovely young swain. 
One ev'ning^reclin'd, to discover his pain : 
So sad, yet so sweetly, he warbled his woe. 
The winds ceas'd to breatbe,and the fountains to flow: 
Rude wiads, with compassion, could hear him 

complain ; 
Yet Chloe, less gentle, was deaf to his strain. 
" How happy," he cry'd, ** my moments once flew 1 
Ere Chloe's bright charms first flash'd in my view ; 
Th^se eyes then with pleasure the dawn could survey ; 
Nor smil'd the fair morning more cheerful then theyt 
Now scenes of distress please only my sight ; 
Vm tortur'd in pleasure, and languish in light. 
*' Through changes In vain relief I pursue ; 
All, all but conspire my griefs to renew : 
From sunshine to zephyrs and shadeb we repair ^ 
To sunshine we fly from too piercing an air : 
But love's ardent fever bums always the same; 
No winter can cool it, no summer mflame. 
" But see ! the pale Moon all clouded retires ; 
The breezes grow cool, not Strepbon*s desires : 
I fly from the dangers of tempest and wind. 
Yet nourish the madness that preys on my mtnd. 
Ah wretch I how can life thus merit thy care, [pairl" 
Since length'ning its moments, but lengthens des* 



THE RAVISWD SHEPHERD, 
A SONG. 

Azwn 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 diflPusive pleasure round, 
Bids each breast enamoor'd bum. 

And each flame with bliss be crown'd ; 
Should my Chloe leave the plain. 
Fell winter soon would blast thy reign. 
Ev'ry charm, whose high delight 

Sense enjoys, 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. 

Savvt, the gay, the blooming swain. 

Had lang firae love been firee ; 
Lang made ilk heart that fill'd the plain 

Dance quick with harmless glee. 
As blythsome lambs that scour the | 

His mind was unconstrain'd ; 
Nae face could aver fix bis een, 

Nae sang his ear detain*d« 



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BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



Ah ? luckless youth ! ashort-livMjoy 

Thy cruel fates decree ; 
Fell tods shall on thy lambkins prey, 

And love mair fell on thee. 
Twas e'er the Sun exhal'd the dew, 

Ae mom of cheeif nl May, 
Forth Girzy ira1k'd,.the flow'rs to view, 

A aow'r mair swcft than they I 
Like sunbe&ms sheen her waving locks ; 

Her een like stars were brij^ht ; 
The rose lent blushes to her cheek; 

The lily purest white. 
Jimp was her waist, like some tall pine 

That keeps the woods in awe ; 
Her limbs like iv'ry columns turnM, 

Her breasts like hills of snaw. 
Her robe around her loosely thrown. 

Gave to the shepherd'* een 
What fearless innocence' would show ; 

The rest was all unseen. 
He fixM his look, he sigh'd, he qoak'd^ 

His colour weni and came ; 
Dark grew his een, his ears resound, 

His breast was all cm flame. 
Naa inair yon glen repeats his sang. 

He jokes and smiles nae mair ; 
Unphited now his cravat hung, 

Undrest his chesnut hair. 
To him how lang the shortest night T 

How dark the brightest day ! 
Till, with the slow consuming fire* 

His life was worn away. 
Far, fiir ftae shepherds and ttieir flocks, 

Opprest with care, he lean'd ; 
And, in a mirky, beachen shade. 

To hills and dales thus plean'd : 
" At length, my wayward heart, retunr, 

Too ffv, alas ! astray : 
Say, whence you caughtibat bitter smart. 

Which wprks me such decay. 
" Ay me ! 'twas Love, 'twas Giny's charou. 

That first began vaj woes ; 
Could he see soft, or she sae fair, 

Prove such relentless foes ? 
*' Fierce winter nips the sweetest flower; 

Keen lightning riyes the tree ; 
Bleak nyldew taints the fairest crop. 

And love has blasted me. 
** Sagacious hounds the foxes chase ; 

The tender lambkins they ; 
Lambs follow chise their member ewes» 

And ewes the blooms of May. 
" Sith a' that live, with a* their might. 

Some dear 'delight pursue ; 
Cease, ruthless maid ! to acorn the heart 

Thai only pants fur you. 
** Alas ! for griefs, to her ntikenM, 

I^Tiat pity can I gain ? 
And should she ken, yet love refuse, 

Coukl that redress my pain ? 
'•"Come, Death, my wan, my frozen bride. 

Ah ! close those wearied eyes : 
But Death the happy still puis<ie<r. 

Still from tbf^ wretched flies. 



" Could wealth avail ; what wealth is mine 

Her high-bom mind to bond ? 
Her's are those wide delightful plains. 

And ber's the flocks I tend. 
" WTiat tUo', whene'er I twn'd my pipe. 

Glad fairies heard the sound. 
And, clad in freshest April green. 

Aft tript the circle round : 
" Break, landward clown, thy dinsone reed. 

And brag tjiy skill nae mair : 
Can aught that gies na Girzy joy. 

Be worth thy lightest care ? 
*' Adieu ! ye harmless, sportive flocks 1 

Who now your lives shall guard ? 
Adieu f my feithful dog, who oSi, 

The pleashig vigil shar'd : 
" Adieu ! ye plains, and light, anes sweet. 

Now painful to my view : 
Adieu to life; and thou, mair dear, 

Who caus'd my death ; adieu!'' 



A PASTORAL 
ON THE DF^TH OF STELLA. 

INSCftlBBD TO mn SMTEt. 

See on those ruby lip^ the trembling breath. 
Those cheeks now faded at the blast of death ; 
Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before. 
And those love-darting eyes bball roll no more. 

Pops. 

Now purple ev'ning ting'd the blue serene. 
And milder breesst^ fiiim'd the verdant plain ; 
Beneath a blasted oak's portentotis shade. 
To speak his grief, a peneive swain was laid : 
Birds ceas*d to warble at the monmful sound ; 
The iaufrhing landscape sadden'd all around : 
For Stella's fkte he breath'd bis tuneful moan. 
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your durling fooe I 

thou ! by stronger ties than blood ally'd. 
Who dy'd to pleasure, when a sister dy'd i ; 
Thou living image of those charms we lost. 
Charms which exulting Nature once might boost I 
Indulge the plaintive Muse, whose simple strain 
Rejieats the heart-felt anguish of the swain : 

For Stella's fate thus flow'd his tonefu^ moan. 
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn yonr darling gm t t ! 

" Are happhiess and joy for ever fled. 
Nor haunt the twilight grove, nor sunny glade ? 
Ah ! fled for ever from my longing eye ; 
With Stella bora, with Stella too they die : 
Die, or with me your brightest image moan; 
Ivove, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darling gone ! 

" Sweet to the thirsty tongue the chrystal streasn, 
,To nightly wand'rers sweet the morning beam ; 
Sweet to the wither'd gri|ss the gentle show'r^ 
To the fond lover sweet the nuptial hour ; 
Sweet fragrant ganlens to the lab'ring bee. 
And lovely StclFa once was Heav'n to roe r 
lliat Heav'n is faded, and those joys are flown. 
Love, Beauty, Virtue, mourn your darling gone t 

1 Mrs. M'Culloch, a lady distinguislied for erery^ 
personal grace and qualificatkm of mind, wbich 
could adorn her sex and natara^ 



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PASTORALS. 



197 



« Ah ! where if nov that forat which chacm'd my 
light? 
Ah ' where that wiidoro, sparkl'mg heavenly bright ? 
Ah ! where that sweeteeae like the layB of spriog. 
When breathe iu flow'rs, and all its warblers sing ? 
5(iw fv\t, ye flow^rs^ye warblers, join my moaD ; 
Lure, Beauty, Virtue, mourn yotir darhng gone ? 

*' Ah me I tho> wiwler desolate the field, 
A;raiD shall flowers their blended odour« yield ; 
AgA'D shall birds the remal aeasoD hail, x 
And beauty paint, and music charm the rale: 
Bat sbt no more to bless me shall appear $ 
No more her angel voice enchant my rar ; 
Ko nsare her angel smile relieve my mi»n : 
Love, Beauty^ Virtue, mourn your darling gone !»' 

He ceas'd ; »br mighty grief his voice snpprest, 
ChiM'tf all his mns, and struggled in his breast ; 
Fr.sn his wan cheek the rosy tincture Aics; 
llie lustre languishM m his closing eyes : 
Too a on shall life return, unhappy jswain ! 
If, with retumiBfT sense, returns thy pain, [moan ; 
Hills, woods, and streams, resound the shepherd^s 
Lore, Bea«ty, Virtae, monm your darling gone ! 



A PASTORAL. 

INSCRIBED TO EUANTHE. 

Wriist I rehearse unhappy Damon^s lays, 
At which his fleecy charge forgot to graee. 
With drooping heads and griev'd attention, stood, 
Korfristf d the green,nor sought the ncigbb Ving flood; 
Eueotial Sweetness ! deign with me to stray, 
Where yon close shades excliide the heat of day } 
Or where yon fountain murmurs soft along, 
Mixt with his tears, and vocal to his song ; 
There hear the sad relation of his fate. 
And pity all the pams thy charms create. 

Close in th' adjacent shade, conceal'd from view, 
I Maid, and heard him thus bis griefs pursue. 

" Awake, my Muse ! the soft Sicilian strain ; 
Mild gleams the purple evening o*er the plain } 
MiU fu the breeses, mdd tbe waters flow. 
And Heav'n and Earth an equal quiet know ; 
With ease the shephenls a'nu their flocks are blest, 
Ao4 eT*ry grief, bol mine, consents to rest. 

** Awake, my Muse, the soft Sicilian strain } 
SieilisD nmnbere may delude my pain : 
The thnsty field, which soorcbing heat devours, 
li ne'er supply'd, too' Heav'n deKend in sbow*rs : 
From towV to flow'r the l)ee sUU plies her wing, 
Of sweets insatiate, tho* she drun the spring : 
Still from those eyes lore calls their liquid store. 
And, when their currents fail, still thirsts fur more. 

" Awake, my Mnse ! the soft Sicilian stmm : 
Yet why to ruthless stomas should I compfaiin K 
Deaf stonns and death itself complaints may move. 
But groans are music to the tyryit Love. 
Love ! thy genius and thy force 1 know^ 



Thy burning torch, and pestilential bow : 
Prom soow formented tempest of the main. 
At once commenc'd thy being, and thy reign j 
Nan'd by fell faarpitt in some howling wood, 
loor'd to slaogfater, and regal'd with blood : 
Relentless mischief! at whose dire command, 
A aotUr ilafaiM with filial Uood her kmnd X 



Curst boy ! curst mother^ idiich most impious,' say, 
Shti who coulrl wunnd, or ht: who 'could betray ? 

" A«ake,my MiiMt I the »>ft Sicilian strain: [tain. 
From love tlsosc sigh.s I UcMlbe, those plagues sos« 
Why did 1 fu-st lutan'he'b c ha iins admire. 
Bless the soft smart, and fan the growing Hre ? 
Why, happy ^till my danger to conceal. 
Could I MO rtiiu fear, till sure tp feci } 
So seeks the swain by night his doubtful way. 
Led by th' insidious meteor's fleeting ray ; 
Siill on, attracted by th* illusive beam, 
He tempts the faithless marsh, or fatal stream : 
Away with scorn the laugliing demon Aies, 
While shades eternal seal the aTCtch's eyes. 

'* Awabc, uiy M^ae ! the soft Sicilian strain ; 
Ah ! can no last, no darhng hope remain, f twine. 
Round which my soul with all her strength may 
And, tho^ but iattcr'd, call the treasure mine ? 
Wretch I to the charmer's sphere canst thou ascend. 
Or dar'st thou ftincy she to thee will bend ? 
Say, shall the chirpigg grassliopper assume 
The varied accent, and the soaring plume ; 
Or shall that oak, the tallest of bis race. 
Stoop to his root, and meet yon shrub's embrace ? 

'* Awake, my Muse I the soft Sicilian strain ; 
Those pallid clieeks how long shall sorrow stain ? 
Well I rcitiember, O my soul ! too well, 
When in the snare of fote 1 thoughtless fell : 
Languid and sick* she sought the distant t 
Where, led by love or destiny, 1 stray*d : 
There, from the nymphs retir'd, depress-d she lay. 
To unremitting pain a smiling prey : 
Ev'n then I saw her, as an angel, bright; 
1 saw, I lov'd, I peirish'd at the sight ; 
I sigh'd, I Uush'd, I gaz'd with fix'd surprise, 
And all my soul htmg raptur'd in my eyes. 

" Forbear, my Muse ! the soft Sicilian strain ; 
Which Heav'n bestows, and art refines, in vain : 
What tho' tbe Hcav'n-born Muse my temples shade 
With wreaths of fame, and bays that never fade ? 
What tho' tbe sylvan pow'rs, while I complain, 
Attend my flocks, and patronize my strain i 
On ne 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 tbe gazer's brftin : 
Object is lost beneath its vast profound. 
And deep and boar«e below the surges sound ; 
Oft, while th' unthinking world is lost in sleep, 
My sable genins tempts me to the steep; 
In fancy *s view bids endless herrours move, 
A barren fortune, and a hopeless love, 
I^ife has no charms for me ; why longer stay ? 
I hear tbe gloomy mandate, and obey. 
What ! &11 the victim of a mean despahr. 
And crown the triumph of the cruel fkir ? 
No, let me once some conscious merit show, 
Aud tell the world, I can sunrve my woe. 

" Forbear, my Muse ! the soft Sicilian strain : 
Fool ! wretched fool ! what frenzy fires thy brain ? 
See, chok'd with weeds, thy languid flow'rs recline, 
l^hy sheep unguarded, and unpropM thy vine. 
At length recalled, to toil thy hands inure, 
Or weave the basket, or the fold secure. 

" What tho' her cheeks a living blush display, 
Pure a9 the dawn of Heav'n's unclouded day; 
Tho' Love from ev'ry glance an arrow wings, 
And all the Muses warble^ when she sings ? 



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BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



Foiliear, my Mase ! the soft Sicilian strain ; 
Some n>niiph, as fair, a sprigfatJier note may gain : 
There are who know to prize more genuine charms, 
^Uliich genius brightens, and which virtue warms : 
Forbear, my Muse ! the soft Sicilian strain ; 
Some nymph, as fair, may smile tho' she disdain.'* 



A PASTORAL ELEGY. 

THE PLAINTIVE SHEPHERD. 

£heu ! quid volui misero mihi ? floribns austrum 
Perditus, et liquidis immisi fontibus apros. 

Vtto. 

Colin, whose lays the shepherds all admire. 
For Phoebe long consumM with hopeless fire ; 
Kor durst his tongue the hidden smart convey. 
Nor tears the torment of his spul betray : 
But to the wildness of the woods be flies, 
And vents his grief in unregarded sighs : 
Ye conscious woods, who still the sound retain, 
Repeat the tuneful sorrows of the swain. 

" And must I perish then, ah cruel maid I 
To early fate, by love of thee, betray *d ? 
And can no tender art thy soul subdue. 
Me, dying me, with milder eyes to view ? 
The flowV that withers in its op'ning bloom, 
Kobb*d of its charming dyes, and sweet perfume ; 
The tender lamb that prematurely i^ines, 
And life's untasted joys at once resigns ; 
For these thy tears in copious tributes flow. 
For these thy bosom heaves with tender woe ? 
And canst thou then with tears their fote survey. 
While, blasted by thy coldness, I decay ? 

" And now the swains each to their cots are fled. 
And not a warble echoes thro' the mead ; 
Vow to their folds the panting flocks retreat, 
Soorch'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 love, the sharpest pang the soul sustains. 
Still cruel love incurable remains. 

" Yet, dear destroyer 1 yet my suflPrings hear : 
By lovers kind look, and pity^s sacred tear. 
By the strong grie6 that in my bosom roll. 
By all the native goodness of thy soul. 
Regard my bloom declining to the grave, 
And, like eternal Mercy, smile and lave. 

** What tho' no sounding names my race adorn. 
Sustained by labour, and obscnrely born ; 
With foirest flow'rs the humble 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. 
What tho' no native charms my person grace. 
Nor beauty moulds my form, nor paints my fitce ; 
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 
Or loll tb' impetuous hurricane asleep } 



Thy number* then her ttedfiut soul may move. 
And change the purpose of determined love. 

** Die, Colin, die, nor groan with grief opprest ; 
Another image triumphs in her breast ? 
Another soon shall call the fisir his own, [crown. 
And Heav'n and Fate seem pleased their vows to 

" Arise, Menalcas, with the dawn arise ; 
For thee thy. Phoebe looks with longing eye9 ; 
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 garUnd 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 ii can desire. 

** Yet, when the priest prepares the rites divine. 
And when her trembling hand is daspM 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 ; to thee his simple heart. 
With easy faith and fondness breath'd its smart s. 
So fools their flocks to sanguine wolves resign. 
So trust the cunning fox to prune the vine. 
Think thou behold'sthim from some gaping woand 
Effuse his soul, and stain with blood the groand : 
Think, while to earth his pale remains they besir. 
His friends with shrieking sorrow pierce thine ear : 
Or, to some torrent^s headlong rage a prey. 
Think thou behold'st him floating to the sea. 

" But now the Son declines his radiant bead. 
And rising hills project a lengthening shade : 
Again to browze the greeu the flocks return. 
Again the swains to sport, and I to mourn : 
I homeward too must beixi my painftil way. 
Lest old Damoetas sternly chide my stay.*' 



DESIDERWM LUTETIAE ; 

PaOM aOCHAKAK, 

AN ALLEGORICAL PASTORAL, 

IH WHICH HI ABOarrS HIS ABSXNCB PROM PAHlS, 
IMITATSn. 

WntLB far remote, thy swain, dear Chloe! «gli% 

Depriv'd the vital sunshine of thine ejres ; 

Seven summer beats already warm the plains ; 

In storms and suow the sev'ntfa bleak wintar leigna : 

Yet not seven years revolving sad and sloir. 

Nor summer^ heats, nor winter's storms and hdov« 

Can to my soul the smallert ease procure, 

Or free from lore and caro one tedious hour. 

llMe,whenfrom Heav'n descend the dewa of moniy 
To crop the verdant mead when flocks retam ; 
Hiee, when the Sun has oompass'd half his way. 
And darts around unsuiferable day ; 
Thee, when the e^in^, o'er the worid display'd. 
From rising hills projects a length'ning shade; 
Thee still I sing, unweary'd of my theme. 
Source of my song, and olgect of my flame ! 
Ev'n night, in whose daric bosom Natnro Isiid, 
Appears one blank, one undistinguish'd shade, 
Ev'n night in vain, with all her horrours, tries 
To blot thy lovely form from fknc;y's eyes. 

When sbort-livM slnmben,laDg invok'd, d< 
To sooth etch care, and ev'ry sense saqpcn^ 



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PASTORALS. 



199 



VqII to my sight once more thy charms appear ; 
Once more my ardent tows salute thine ear ; 
Ooee more my aDxioiu soul, awake to bliss, 
Feelt, heart, detains thee in her close embrace : 
Ib flattering, thrilling, gloving transport tost, 
TiU leose itself in keen delight is lost. [scene < 

Prom sleep I wake*; but, oh ! how chang'd the 
The charms illusive, and the pleasure vain ! 
The day returns ; but ah ! returning day, 
^liea ev*ry grief but mine admits allay. 
On these sad eyes it^ glory darts in x-ain j 
Its light restored, restores my soul to pain. 

The house 1 fly, impelPd by wild despair. 
As if my griefs could only find me there. 
Lost to the world, thro* lonely fields I rove ; 
Vain wish ! to fly from destiny and love ! 
By wayward frenzy's restless impulse led, 
Thro^ devious wilds, with heedless course, I tread : 
The care remote, the dusky woods explore. 
Where human step was ne'er imprest before : 
And, with the native accents of despair, 
Fatigoe the oooacious rocki, and desert air. 
Kind Echo, fiuthfol to my plaints alone, 
Sighs all my sighs, and groans to ev*ry groan. 
The streams, fiimiliar to the voice of woe. 
Each mommful somid remurmur as they flow. 

Oft OQ some rock distracted I complain. 
Which hangs prcgected o'er the ruffled main : 
Oft view the azure Surges as they roll, 
lod to deaf storms effuse my frantic soul. 
•* Attend my sorrows, O cerulean tide ! 
Ye blue-ey*d nymphs that thro' the billows glide, 
Oh ! waft me gently o'er your rough domain ; 
Let me at length my darling coast attain : 
Or, if my wishes thus too much implore, 
Shipwreck'd and gasping let me reach the shore. 
Whil« wash'd along the floods I hold my way, 
To ew'ry wind and ev'ry wave a prey, 
Dear hope and love shall bear my struggrmgfiramey 
And nneatingushM keep the vital flame." 

Oft to the hasfning zephyrs have I said : 
"You, happy gales ! shall fan my lovely maid. 
Sa may no pointed rocks your wings deform ^ 
So may your qieedy joomey meet no storm. 
As soft you whisper round my heav'nly fiiir. 
Play on her breast, or wanton with her hair ; 
Faithful to love, the tender message bear. 
And breathe my endless sorrows in her ear." 

How oft rou^ Eiirus have I ask'd in vain 1 
As with swift wings he brush'd the foamy main : 
*' Blest wind ! who late my distant charmer view'd, 
Say, has her soul no other wish purtu'd I 
With mntual fire, say, does her bosom glow ; 
Peels she my wound, and pities she my woe V* 

Heedless of all my tears, and all 1 say, 
The winds, with blusfVing fury, wing their way. 
Afieezing horrour, and a chilling pain, 
Shoots thro* my heart, and sUgnates ev*ry vein. 
No mral pleasores yield my soul relief ; 
No melting shepherd's pipe consoles my grief: 
The choral nymphs, that dancing cheer the plain, 
And Fauna, tbo' 'sweet their song, yet sing in vain. 
Deaf to the voice of joy, my torUir'd mind 
Gail only room for love and anguish find : 
By these my soul and all its wishes caught, 
Can to no other object yield a thought. 
Lyosca, skilful with her lyre to move 
£Mh tender wiib, and melt the soul to love : 



Melaenis too, with ev'ry sweetness crownM, 
By Nature formed with evVy glance to wound : 
With emulation both my love pursue, . 
And both, with winning arts, my passion woo. 
The freshest bloom of youth their cheeks display ;' 
Their eyes are arm'd with beauty's keenest ray ; 
AvVice itself might count their fleecy store, 
(A prize beyond its wish 1) and pant no more. 

.Me oft their dow'rs each gen'rous sire hati told, 
An hundred playful younglings from the fold. 
Each with its dam i their mothers promise more. 
And oft, and bng, with secret gifts, implore. 
Me nor an hundred playful younglings move. 
Each with its dam ; nor wealth can bribe my love j 
Nor all the grieCa 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 to health, and rocks to verdant fields ^ 
As the fair virgin's cheek, with rosy dye 
Blushing delight, with lightning arm'd her eye, 
Beyotid her mother's faded form appears, 
Mark'd with the wrinkles and the snow of years ; 
As beauteous Tweed, and wealth-importing Thamti 
Flow each the envy of their country's streams . 
So, loveliest of her sex, my heav'nly maid 
Appears, and all their fainter glories fiside. 

Melaenis, whom lore's soft enchantments arm, 
Replete with charms, and conscious of each charm. 
Oft on the glassy stream, with raptur>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 fniitlqss fires a prey ! 
Say, will those sighs and tears for ever flow 
In hopeless torment, and determin'd wde i 
Our fields, by Nature's bounty blest, as thine. 
The mellow apple yield, and purple vine ; 
Those too thou lov'st j their free eiyoyment share. 
Nor plant vain tedious hopes, and reap despair." 

Me oft Lycisca, in the fiestive train. 
Views as she lightly hounds 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 n»venge will punish slighted love. • 
I've seen a huntsman, active as the mom, 
Salute her earliest blush with sounding horn ; 
Pursue the bounding stag with op'iwng cries. 
And slight the timid hare, his ea^y prize : 
Then, with the setting Sun, his hounds 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 finch that flutter'd round iu.air. 
And court the sweeter lionet 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 scern the simple reed the swains inspire : 
The simple reed yet cheers each tuneful swain ; 
While itiU unblcft the scomer pines in vain. 



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BIACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



Thus rifhtootts Hrav'n chastises wanton pride. 
And bids intemperate insolence 8ub<;ide.'* [pain. 
Thus breathe the am'rous nynaphs their fruitless 
Id ears impervious to the soft«t strain. 
But first with trembling Iambs the wolf shall graze; 
First hawks with linnets join in socml la>'s; 
Tlrst shall the t'ger's sanguine thhrst expire, 
Aud tim*rotis fawns the lion fierce admire ; 
Ere, with her lute Lycisca taught to charm, 
This destinM heart ere soft Melaenis warm. 
■First shall the finny nation leave the flood, 
Shadows the hills, and birds the vocal wood ; 
The winds shall cease to breathe, the streams to flow; 
£re my desires another object know. 
This infant bosom, yet in love untaught, 
From Ctiloe first the pleasing ardour caught: 
Chloe shall still its faithful empire claim. 
Its first ambition, and its latest aim ! 
Till ev*ry wish and ev*ry hope be o'tr. 
And life and love inspire my fi-ame no more. 



PBILANTHES: 

A 

MONODY. 

^ INSCRIBED TO MISS D-~-Y B-— >Y ; 

I 

Occasioned by a series of interestiner evenU which 
happened at Dumfries on Friday, June 12, 1752 
particularly that of her father's death. ' 

Quis desiderio sit pudor, ant modus * 
Tarn chari capitis ? Praecipe lugiibres 
Cantus Melpomene, cui liquidam pater 
Vocem cam citliara dedit. Uorat. 

ARGUMBMT. 

The subject proposed.— Address to Mist H y. 

—General reflectbns inspir'd by the subject, and 
previous to it. — ^The scetie opens with a prospect 
of Mrs. M-«— 0*8 funeral solemnity : and changes 
to the untimely fate of n beautiful youth, son to 
Mr. J — —s H— ^11, whose early geniun, quick 
progress in learning, and gentle disfwsitions, in- 
«pirod his firiends, with the highest expectations 
of his riper attainments.— Transition to the death 

of Dr. J 8 H y, physician : his character 

as such: the general sonow occasioned by his 
fete : his character as a friend, as particularly 
qualifiefl to so^jth distress; as a gentleman; as 
an husband ; as a fatlier : his loss considered in 
All these relations, particularly as sustained by 
Miss H— -y : her .ender care of him during his 
sickness described.— The piece concludes with an 
apotheosis, in imitation of Virgil's paphnis. 

A swAiv, whose smi' the tuneful nine inflame. 

As to hi« western goal the Sun decltii'd, 
♦Sung to the Hst'ning shades no common theme; 

While the hoarse breathhrigs of the hollow wind. 

And deep resoomling surge in concert jom*d. 
Deep was the surge, and deep the pfaimive song, 
While all the solemn sce&fe in mute attention 



Not thou, fair victim Of so jolt a wo« ! 
Tho' still the pangs of nature swell thy heart, 
Disria'n the iaitliful Muse ; whose numbers ftow 
Sacred, alas ! to f^yinpathetic smact : 
For in thy griefs the Muses claim a part ; 
*Tis all they can, in social tears to mourn, [unk 
And deck with cypress wre«ths thy dear paternal 
The swain began, while conscious echoes round 
Protract to sadder length his doleM 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 feign : 
For Pan > indignant from bis fields retires. 

Once haunts of gay delight; 

Now every sense they fright, [fires. 

Resound with shrieks of woe, and blaze with fun'ral 

What tho> the radiant Sun and clement sky 
Alternate warmth and showers dispense below; 
Tho» spring presages to the careftil eye, 
That autumn copious with her firuits sfaail ^fanr ? 
For us in vain her choicest blessings fiow : 

To ease the bleeding heart, alas ! in vain [gntin. 

Rich swells the purple grape, or waves the golden 
What suromer-breeie, on swiftest pinions borne. 
From fate's relentless hand its prey can save ? 
What sun in Death's dark regions wake the morn. 
Or warm the cold recesses of the grave ? [heave 
Ah wretched man ! whose breast scarce learns to 

With kindling life ; when, ere thy bud is blown, 

Ktemal winter breathes, and all its sweets are 
gone. 

Thou all-enlivening flame, intensely bright I 
Whose sacred beams illume each wand'ring sphere 
That thro' high Heav'n reflects thy trembling lightl ^ 
Conducting round this globe the varied year ; 

As thou pursu'bt thy way, 

Let this revolving day, 
Dcep-ting'd witli conscious gloom, roll slow along : 

In sable pomp aiTay'd, 

Let night d:ffuse her shade, [thitm^. 

Nor sport the cheericss hind, nor chant the vocal 

Scarce, fipom the ardour of the mid-^ay gleam. 

Had languid nature in the cool respir'd ; 

Scarce, by the margin of the silver stream, 

Famt sung the birds in venlant shades retired ; 

Scarce, o'er the thirsty field with sun-shine fi'r'd. 
Had ev'ning gdles the sportive wing essay'd. 
When sounds of hopeless woe the silent scene 
invade. 

Sophronia, long for ev'ry virtue dear 
That grac'd the wife, the mother, or the friend. 
Deprived of life, now prcss'd the mournful bier, 
In sad procession to the tomb sustain'd. 
Ah me ! in vain to Heav'n and Earth oomplain'd 
With tender cries her nnm'rous orphan train " 
The tears of wedded \^^e profuse were shed' in 
vain. 

Fur her, was grief on ev'ry fkce impiess'd ; 
For her, each bo?om heav'd with tender sighs « 
An husband late with all her virtues blesa'd. 
And weeping race in sad ideas rise : 

For her ddpress'd and pde, 

Ydiir charms, ye Gfaoes, val, . 



1 God of Arcadia, who peeoliariy pitiidci orer 
rural life. 



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PHILANTHES: A MONODY. 



mi 



Wbom to •dora was once year chief d^figlA : 
Ye Viitoet, ati deplore 
Yoar image, now no more, [night 

And HjUMO, ^ quench thy torch in tears and endlesi 
Mr yet these d:smal prospects disappear 
Wht J er t^e weeping plain new borroitrs rise. 
And louder accents pierce each frighted ear, 
Acceats of grief imbitter'd by surprise ! 
Pontic wit)i woe, at once the tumult flies. 
To snatch Adtmis wash*d along the stream, 
And all th' extended bank re-echoes to bis nan^e; 

Rang'd on the brink the weeping matrons stand. 
The lorely wreck of fortune to survey. 
While o'er the flood he wav'd his beauteous hand. 
Or io coovuhive aoguisb struggling lay. 
By slow dejcrei'S they view'd his force decay, 
la froitJeMt efforts to regain the shore : 
They view*d and mourn 'd his &te : O Heaven ! 
they could no more. 

Ye Naiads ^, guardians of the fatal flood, 
Wts beauty, sweetnen^^outh, no more yoor care } 
For beauty, sweetness, youth, your pity woo'd, 
Pb«*riul to charm, if fbte could learn to spare. 

Stretched on cM earth he liesj 

While, in his closing eyes, 
No more the beaT'n-iUomm^d lustre shines; 

His cbeek, onoe Nature's pride. 

With blooming roses dy'd, 
To unrelenting fote hs op'nnig Uufth reiignt. 

Deir hapless youth ! what felt thy mother's heart, 
Wben io her view thy lifeless form was laid ? 
^b anguish wben the soul and body part. 
Such agonizing pangs the frame invade. 
" Was there no hand," she cryM, *< my child to aid ? 
Couid Heav'n and Earth mimpy*d his fall surrey, 
K<s- from th' insatiate waves redeem tlieh* lovely 
prey? 

" Did I for this my tend'rest cares employ. 
To nourish pnd improve thy early bloom ? 
Are all my rising hopes, my prorais'd joy, 
ExUoct m death's inexorable gloom ? 
No more shall life those faded charms relntne, 

Dear rip'nmg sweetness ! sonk no more to rise ! 

Thee Nature monnis, like me, with food maternal 
eyes. 

" Fortune and life, yoor gifts how insecure I 
How fiur yoo promise ! but how ill perform ! 
Lke tender fruit, they perish premature, [storm. 
Soorcli'd by the beam, or whelm'd beneath the 

For thee a {ate more kind. 

Thy mother's hopes assign'd, 
Than thus to sink in early youth deplorM : 

But late thou fled*st my sight. 

Thy pn«nt's dear delight ! [stor'd r " 

AndarttlMMito my arms, ah ! art thoQ thus re- 
Severe these ills; jet heavier still impend. 
That wuond with livelier grief the smartmg soul ; 
As, ere tlie long-collected storm descend. 
Red Hghtnbgs flash, and thunder shakes the pole; 
Portentous, solemn, loud its murmurs roll : 
While fnm the wahjbet fleld the trembling Mud 
Views bHtvitTnhi threst Ifae Iflbowt of mankind. 



SGodofnatfliige. 



•Rite^gad diBi iei . 



For sicaree the bitter sigh and deep*nio^ groan 
In fainter cadence died away in air. 
When, Io ! by fete a desedlier shaft Was thrown, 
Whicii open'd ev'ry source of deep despair : 
As yet our souls those recent sorrows share, 
Swift from th' adjacent field Menalcas flieS, 
While grief impels hi< steps, and tears bedew hiiT 
eyes. 

" Weep on," he cry'd, ''let tears no measure know } 
Hence from those fields let pleasure wing her way : 
Ye shades, be hallow'd finom this hour to woe: 
No more with summer's pride, ye meads, be gay. 

Ahl why, with sweetness erown'd. 

Should somnter smile around ? 
Philanthes now is nuteber'd with the dead : 

Yoimg Health, all drown'd in tears, 

A livid paleness wears ; 
Dim are her radiant eyes, and all her roses fade. 

** Him bright Hygeia «, in life's early dawn. 
Thro' Nature's fev'rite walks with transport led. 
Thro' woods umbrageous, or the op'ning lawn. 
Or where fresh fountains lave the flow'ry mead : 
Their summer's treasures to his view dispbiy'd 
What herbs and flow'rs salubrious juice bestow, 
Akmg the lowly vale, or mountain's arduous brow. 

'* The paralytic nerve his art confess'd, 
Quick-panting asthma, and consumption pale : 
Corrosive pain he soften'd into rest. 
And bade the fever's rage no more prevail. 
Unhappy art ! decreed at last to fiul. 
Why lioger'd then thy salutary pow'r. 
Nor from a life so dear repell'd the destin'd hoor^ . 
" Yoor grieft, O love and friendship, how severe ? 
Wben high to Heav'n his soul pnrsh'd her flight; ' 
Yonr moving plaints still vibrate on my ear, 
Still the sad vixion swims More my sight; 

O'er all the mournful scene. 

Inconsolable pam, 
In ev'ry various form, appear'd express'd : 

The tear-distilling eye. 

The long, deep, broken sigh, [brea9t4 

Disrolv'd each tender toul, and heav'd in ev'ry 

" Such were their woes, and oh ! how just, how due ! 

What tears oould equal such immense distress ? 

Time, core of fighter ills, must ours renew, 

And years the sense of what we lose increase. 

From whom shall now the ilm^bed hope redrett } 
Religion where a nobler sobject find. 
So fevourM of the skies, so dear to human kind ? 

" Fair Friendship, smiling on his natal hour. 
The babe selected in her sacred train ; 
She bade him round diffusive blessings &how^. 
And in his bosom fix'd her favVite fane. 
In glory thence how long, yet how serene, 
Her vital influence spreads Hs cheering rays 1 
Worth felt the genial beam, and ripan'd in thi 



" As hicid streams iefresh the smilhig ^lain, 
Op'ning the flow'rs that on their borders grow ; 
As grateful to the bert>, descending rain. 
That shrtmk and wUh^'d hi the solar glow : 

So, when his voice was heard. 

Affliction disaj^ar'd ; 

« J)9XLiflA/et of JEsculUphis, and goddess of beattt.- 



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BLACRLOCK'S POEMS. 



Plenm with nTish'd tan imbib'd the aoand; 

Grief with its sweetness soothed. 

Each cloady featare tmooth'd. 
And ever-waking care Ibrgot th* eternal wound. 

*' Such elegance of taste, such graceful ease, 
Infus'd by Heaven, thro* all his manners shone ; 
In him it seemM to join whate*er could please. 
And plan the full perfection from its own : 
He Giher fields and other swains bad known. 
Gentle as those of old by Phoebus ^ taught. 
When polish'd with his lute, like him tlMy spoke 
and thought 

** Thus form'd alike to bless, and to be bless'd, 
6och heav'nly graces kindrM graces found ; 
Her gentle turn the same, the same her taste. 
With equal worth, and equal candour crownM : 
Long may she search creation's ample round, 
The joys of such a friendship to explore ; 
But, once in him expir'd, to joy she lives no more. 
*' As Nature to her works supremely kind. 
His tender soul with all the parent gkyw*d. 
On all his race, his goodness unconfin'd. 
One full exhaustless stream of fondness flowed ; 

Pleas'd as each genius rose 

New prospects to disclose. 
To form tlie mind, and raise its gen'rons aim ; 

His thoughts,^with virtue warm'd. 

At once inspired and charmed ; [flame. 

His looks, his words, his smiles transfus*d the sacred 

'* Say ye, whose minds for long revolving jrears 
The jojrs of sweet society have known. 
Whose mutual fondness ev*ry hour endears, [one j 
Whose pains, whose pleasures, and whose souls are 
O ! say, for you can judge, and yon alone, 
What anguish pierc'd his widowed 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 thpir eyes ; 
His smiles indulgent, his paternal care. 
In sadly-pleasing recollection rise : 
But young Dorioda, 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 renew'd. 
Or midnight vigils wrapt the world in shade. 
Her tender task assiduous she pursued. 
To sooth his anguish, or his wants to aid j 

To soften ev'ry pain. 

The meaning look explain. 
And scan the forming wish 'ere yet express'd: 

The dying father smil'd 

With fondness on his child, [bless'd. 

And when his tongue was mute, bis eyes her goodness 

*' At length, fair mourner ! cease thy rising woe : 
Its olgect still surviving seeks the skies, 
Where brighter suns in happier climates glow, 
And ampler scenes with height'uing charms surprise: 
There perfect life thy mudi lov'd sire eq)oyB, 
The life of gods, exempt from grief and iwin. 
Where in immortal breasts immortal transport» 
reign. 

^ He was said to polish the swains, when m re- 
venge for fbrghtg the bolt which killed his son, he 
dew the Cyclops^ and was doom'd to keep the flocks 
of " 



" Ye moamiDg swains, yonr loud oompkfaits for- 
Still he, the genius of onr green retreat, [bear; 
Shall with benignant care our labours cheer. 
And banish far each shock of adverse fote ; 
Mild suns and gentle flow'rs on spring shall wait. 
His hand with ev'ry fruit shall autuq^n store : 
In Heav'n your patron reigns, ye sh«;pherds weep 
no more. 
" flenceforth his pow*r shall with your lares ^ join. 
To bid your cots with peace and pleasure smile ; 
To bid disease 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 pacron reigns, no more, ye shep- 
herds, mourn." 



THE WISH.' AN ELEGY. 

TO URANIA. 

Felices ter, et amplius, 

Quos irrapta tenet copula, nee malts 
Bivulsus querimoniis 

Suprema citius solvet amor die. Hor. 

Lbt others travel, with incessant pain. 

The wealth of earth and ocean to secure ; 
Then, with fond hopes, caress the precious bane ; 

In grandeur abject, and in affluence poor. 
But soon, too soon, in fancy's timid eyes. 

Wild waves shall roll, and conflagrations spread. 
While bright in arms, and of gigantic size. 

The fear-form'd robber hauuts the thorny bed. 

Let me, in dreadless poverty retir'd, 

The real joys of life, unenvied, share : 
Favour'd by love, and by the Muse inspired, 

I'll yield to wealth its jealousy and care. 
On rising ground, the prospect to command, 

Unting'd with smoke, where vernal breezes blow^ 
In rural neatness let my cottage stand ; 

kere wave a wood, and there a ri^er flow. 
Oft from the neighb'ring hills and pastures round. 

Let sheep with tender bleat salute my ear ; 
Nor fox insidious banntthe 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 stam. 

And place in groans and death their cruel joy. 
Ye pow'rs of social life and tender song 1 

To 3roa devoted shall my fields remain ; 
Here undistorb'd the peaceful day prolong. 

Nor own a smart but love's delightful pain. 
For you, my trees shall wave their leafy shade ; 
. For you, my gardens tinge the lenient air ; 
For you, be autumn's blushing gifts di^lay'd. 

And all that Nature yields of sweet or lieur. 
But, O i if plaints, which love and grief inspire. 

In heav'nly breasts could e'er oonoipassion find. 
Grant me, ah ! grant my heart's suprama dcaire^ 

And teach my dear Urania to be kind* 

* Donertic godf. 



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ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MIL POPE- 



209 



For her, black sadnc^ ckmdi my Inightest day ; 

For her, in tean the midnight TigiU roll ; 
Tor her, cold horronn melt my powers a«ay» 

And chill the bring ▼igour of my aouL 

Bnealh her toom each yoaihful ardour diet, 
Iti joys, iti wishes, and its hopes, expire; 

la vain the fields of science tempt nay eyes ; 
In rain for me the Moses string the lyre. 

01 let her oft my hnmble dwdling grace, 
Homble no more, if there she deign to shine ; 

For Heav*n, unlimited by time or place. 
Still waits on god-like worth and charms dirme. 

Amid the cooling fragrance of the mom. 
How sweet with her thro' lonely fields to stray ! 

Her charms the loveliest landscape shall adorn, 
And add new glories to the rising day. 

With her, all nature shines in heightened bloom ; 

The sihrer stream in sweeter mUsic flows ; 
Odoars more rich the fanning gales perfume ; 

And deeper tinctures paint the spreading rose. 

With her, the shades of night their horrours lose. 
Its deqicst silence charms if she be by ; 

Her voice the music of the dawn renews. 
Its lambent radiance sparkles in her eye. 

How sweet, with her, in wisdom's calm recess. 

To brighten soft desire with wit refio'd ? 

Kind Naturals laws with sacred Ashley trace, 

' And view the fiiirsst features of the mind ! 

Or borne on Bfilton^s flight, as Heav'n sublime. 
View its full Maze in open prospect glow; 

Bless the first pair in Eden's happy clime, 
Or drop the human tear for endless woe. 

And when, in Tiitue and in peace grown old. 
No arU the languid lamp of life restore ; 

Her let me gnsp with hands conruls'd and cold, 
Till ev'ry nerve relax 'd can hold no more : 

long, loqg on her my dying eyes suspend, 
Till the last beam shall vibrate on my sight ; 

Then soar where only greater joys attenid. 
And bear her image to eternal light. 

Food man, ah t whither would thy fonoy rove ? 

Tis thine to languish in unpitied smart ; 
lis thme, alas ! eternal scorn to prove. 

Nor foel one gleam of comfort warm thy heart. 

But, if my foir this cruel law impose, 
Pleai'dl, to her will I all my soul resign ; 

To walk beneath the burden of my woes. 
Or sink in death, nor at my fate repine. 

Tet when, with woes nnmingled and sincere. 
To earth's cold womb in silence I descend ; 

X^ her, to grace my obsequies, appear. 
And with the weeping throng her sorrows blend. 

Ah ! no ; be all her hours with pleasure crowned. 
And ah her tool from ev'ry anguish firee : 

Skoald my sad fate that gentle boaom wound. 
The joys of Hear'n wooM be no Joys to me. 



ON THE DEATH OF MIL POPE. 



Poets themselves must foil, like those they suug ; 
Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tonguej 
Ev'n he, whose soul, now melts in mournful lays. 
Shall shortly want the gen'rous tear he pays. 

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 oppress'd with pain ; 
Deign you, whose souls, like mine, are form'd to know 
The nice poetic sense of bliss and woe ; ^ 

To these sad accents deign a pitinng ear: 
Strong be our sorrow, as the cause severe. 

O Pope, what tears thy obsequies attend ! 
Britain a bard deplores, mankind a friend : 
For thee, their darling, weep th' Aonian choir. 
Mute the soft voice, unstrung the tuneful lyre,: 
For thee, the virtuous and the sage shall moorq. 
And viiigin sorrows bathe thy sacred urn : 
One veil of grief o'er Heav^D 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 heav'nly light: 
Now pleas'd, to open sunshine they return. 
And o'er the fote exult which others mourn. 

Ah me ! for other thoughts my soul inspire ; 
Far other accents breathes the plaintive lyre : 
Thee, tho' the Muses bless'd with all their art ; 
And pour'd their sacred raptures on thy heart; 
Tho' thy lov'd Virtue, with a mother's pain. 
Deplores thy fote, 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 effus'd in song 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 his days unblest : 
Hell's mazy frauds deep in his bosom roll. 
And all her gloom hangs heavy on his souL 

' What we call poetical genius, depends entiraly 
on the quickness of moral feeling : he, therefbra, 
who cannot fieel poetry, must either have his afieo- 
tions and internal senses depraved by ▼ice,or be natn- 
rally insensible of the pleasures resulting from the 
exercise of them. But this natural insensibility is 
almost never so great in any heart, as entirely to 
hinder the impression of well-painted paanon, or 
natmal imaget oonnacted with it,. 



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BLACKLOCE'S POEMS. 



A9 when th« Bm begins bin eastern way. 
To bless the nations with returning day, 
Crown'd with unfading splendour, on be flies ; 
Reveals the world, and kindles all the skies : 
The prostrate East the radiant god adore ; 
So, Pope, we viewed thee, but nrast view no more. 
Thee angels late beheld, with mute surprise, 
Glow with their themes, and to their accents rise; 
Ttiey viewed with wonder thy unbounded aim. 
To trace thr mazes of th* eternal scheme : 
But Heav'n those scenes to human view denies. 
Those scenes impervious to celestial eyes : 
lVbo(i*er attempts the path, shall lose his way, 
And, wrapt in night, thro* endless errour stray. 

In thee what talent shall we most admire; 
The critic's 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. 
Far from the haunts of men, and soenes of day : 
There, curst and cursing, rack'd with raging woe, 
Shakes with hicessant howls the realm» Mow. 
But soon, too soon, the fiend to light shall rise ; 
Her steps the Earth scarce bound, her head the 
Till bis red terrours Jove again display, [skies ; 
Assert bis laws, and vindicate his sway. 

When Ovid's song bewails the Lesbian fair, 
Her slighted passion, and intense despair $ 
By thee improv'd, in each soul-moving Hue, 
Not Ovid's wit, but Sappho's sorrows shine. 
When Eloisa mourns her hapless fate. 
What heart ean cease with all her pangs to beat ! 

While pointed wit, with lowing numbers grac'd, 
Excites the laugh, ev'n in the guilty breast; 
The gaudy coxcomb, and the fickle fair. 
Shall dread the satire of thy ravish'd hair. 

Not the ^cilian ^ breath'4 a sweeter song. 
While Arethusa, charm'd and list'ning, hung; 
Froib whom each Muse, from her dear seat retir'd. 
His flocks protected, and himself inspired : 
Nor he ^ who sung, while sorrow fill'd the plain, 
How Cytherea nBoum'd Adoois slain ; 
Nor Tityhis \ who, in immortal lays,. 
Taught Mantua's echoes Galatea's praise. 
No more let Mantua boast unrival'd fame ; 
Thy Windsor now f hall equal honours claim : 
Eternal fragrance shall each breeze perfume. 
And m each grove eternal verdure bloom. 

Ye tuneful shepherds, and ye beauteous maids, 
Fkom fair Ladona's banks, and Windsor's shades, 
Whose souls in tran<(port 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 flow'r. 
And on his tomb the gay profusfon show'r. 
Let long-liv'd pansies here their scents bestow. 
The viol€tt languish, and the roses glow ; 
lo yellcfw glory let the emcos shine. 
Narcissus here his love-aick bead recline ; 
Here hyiscinths m purple sweetness rise, 
Aad tntips ting'd with beauty's fairest dyes. 

Who shall sacoeed thy worth, O dariing swatn ! 
Attemipt thy reede, or emulate tky strain ? 
Bacb painted Warbler of the vocal grove 
LamenU tliy &te^ wimindfQl of bb love : 



« Theocritus. 



'Bion. 



* Virgil. 



Tbee, thee the breexes, thee the fonntaias moam, 
And solemn moans rcsponnve rocks return ; 
Shepherds and flocks protract the doleful sound. 
And nought is heard but mingled plaints around. 

When first Calliope thy fall surrey'd. 
Immortal tears her eyes profusely shed ; 
Her pow'ijless hand the tuneful harp resigned ; 
The conscious haip her griefs, low-murrn'riog, 

jittin'd ; 
Her voice is ttembling cadence dy'd nway. 
And, lost in anguish, all the goddess lay. 
Such pangs tfhe felt, when, from the realms of lights 
The fates, ro Homer, ravish'd her delight : 
To thee her sacred hand consgn'd his Ijrre, 
And in thy bosom kindled all his fire : 
Hence, in our tongue, his glorious labours drest, 
Breathe all the god that warm*d their autboi^ 
breast. 

When horri^ war informs 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 mountaioi 

round; 
The nations roek. Earth's solid bases groan. 
And quake Heav'n's arches to th' eternal throne. 

When Eotns dilates the lawless wind. 
O'er Nature's face to revel unconfin'd. 
Bend Heav'n's blue concave, sweep the fruitful plain» 
Tear up the forest, and inrage the main ; 
In horrid native pomp the tempests shine. 
Ferment, and roar, and aestuate in each line. 

When Sisyj^hus, 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 from its height. 
Precipitate tlie numbers emulate the flight. 

As when creative Energy, employ'd. 
With ^-arious beings fill'd the boun<4tes8 void ; 
With deep survey th' omniscient Parent view'd 
The mighty filtbric, and oonfess'd it good ; 
He view'd, exulting with immense delisrht. 
The lovely transcript, as th' idea, bnght: 
So iSwell'd the bard ^ with ecstasy divine. 
When full and finish'd rose his bright design ; 
So, from the Elysian bow'rs, he joy 'd to see 
All his immortal self roviv'd in thea 
While fame enjoya thy consecrated fane. 
First of th* inapir'd, with him for ever reign ; 
With his, each distant age shall rank thy name, 
And ev'n reluctant Envy hiss acclaim. 

But, ah ! blind fate will no distinction know ; 
Swift down the torrent all alike must flow ; 
Wit, virtue, l«%imiog, are alike iCs prey; 
All, all must tread th* irremeable way. 

No more fond wishes in my breast shall roll. 
Distend my heart, and kindle all my soul. 
To breathe my honest raptures in thy ear. 
And feel thy kindness in returns sincere ; 
Thy art, I hop'd, should teach the Muse to sing. 
Direct her fllgttt, and prme her mfant wing ; 
Now, Mnse, be dumb ; or let thy song dqptore 
Thy pleasures blasted, and thy hopes no nsore. 

Tremendous pom^n I who rale th' eternal state. 
Whose voice is thunder, and whose nod is fkte ; 
Did I for empire, second to your own. 
Cling round the shrine, and importune the throne ? 

5 Homer. 



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ELEGY ON CONSTANHA. 



i05 



Pi«y*d I, tb«t fimie thould bear my name oo higli, 
TTiro' oatiooM Earthy or alUinvolving sky ? 
Wao*d I fcr me the Sun to toil and fthine. 
The fem to brighten, or mature the mioe ? 
pjo' «)eep iuTolv'd m adamantine night, 
isk'd I again to view Heav'n's cheerfal light ? 
Pof)e*s lore I soogfat; that only boon «ieny'd» 
4) Iffe ! what pleasure canst thou boaflt bttide, 
Worth my regaid, or equal to my pride } 

Thus moams a tsm'roas Mnse, noknown to fame, 
Tiin sheds her sweetest incense on thy name ; 
V^Tiilst oo her lips imperfiect accents die, 
Tear fcilloiriog tear, and sigh sacoeedhng sigh : 
S^e monras, nor she ahme, with ibiid regret, 
A vcrld, a ^tng world, must weep thy &te. 

Where polish'd arts and sacred science reign, 
Wheie-e*er the Nine their tuneful presence deign ; 
Tlere shall thy glory, with unclouded hbae, 
CommaDd immortal monvnients of praise : 
From clime to clime the circling Sun shall view 
Its rival spleodoor still his own puisne. 
Wh.'le the swift torrent from its source descends $ 
Wbi:e round this globe Heav'n's ample concave 



WbilA all its liring lamps their course maintain. 
Aid lead the beauteous year's revolTing train ; ■ 
So !oQf shall men thy HeaT*nly song admire, 
Aod Xatore'i charms and thine at once expire. 



ELEGY: 

TO THE ICBMORT OF 

CONSTANTIA K 

TTs saltern 'accnmulem donii, et fungar inani 
Mnnere. 

Virg, 

Bt the pale glimmer of the conscious Moon, 

•^ ben sluanber, oo the humid eyes of woe, 

^.^ its kind lenitive ; what mournful voice 

^' »dly sweet, on my attentive ear, 

h> mniag pl^ot effuses : like the song 

< '^ Philomel, when thro" the vocal air, 

•: ^-M^d by deep inconsolable grief, 

.^ * tNcathcs her soft, her melancholy strain ;' 

A ^i Natore with religious silence hears } 

T^ fbe; my wandVmg senses rocognize 

T> velUkaown charm, and all my list'ning soul 

I* '^cpnctation. Oh I *tis that dear voice, 

^W' gentle accents charm'd my happier days ; 

F/f (harp aJBiction's icon hand had prest 

H<^ vnnal youth, and sunk her with the blow. 

Trll me, thou heav'iily exoelleBCe ) whose form 
^ riKs to my view, whose melting song 
tT rvcr echoes on my trembling ear, 
I^^shtfftl ev'n in misery; O say ! ' 
^'ast bright distingttish*d mansion in the sky 
^'^xiva tfiy aaffhring virtue from the storm, 

* Mm a eoompi i abed bat milbrtunate young lady, 
•'iW city of Bdinbui^, having, without the con- 
«* rf her lather, married a gentleman, who car- 
r^j ber to the West Indies, she was there cruelly 
»/nakea by him, and loaC her Ulb by a mistaken 



That on thy tender blossom paurVl ita raft ? 
Early, alas ! too early 4'wUt thou feel 
Its most tempestuous fury. From the cala^ 
The soft serenity of life how led 
An unsuspecting victim ! Ev'ry blast 
Pierc'd to thy inmost soul, amid the waste 
Of cruel fortune left to seek tby v?ay 
Unsheltered and akme ; while to thy graaM 
No j^en'rons ear reclin'd, no friendly roo^ 
With hospitable umbrage, entertaiu'd 
Thy drooping sweetness, uninur'd to pain. 
That liberal hand, which, to the tortur'd sense 
Of anguish, comfort's hc«liog balm apfdy'd, 
To Heav'n and Earth extended, vainly now 
Implores the oonsolatkNi once it gave^ 
Nor suppliant meets redress. That eye benign. 
The seat of mercy, which to each distress, 
£v*n by thy foe susUinM, the gentle tear, 
A willing tribute, paki, new fruittess weeps, 
Ndr gains that pity it so oft bestow'd. 

Thou lo^ahest aacrifice that ever Cell 
To perfidy and unrelenting hate ! 
How in the hour of confidence and hope. 
When love and expectation to thy heait 
Spoke peace, and plac'd felicity in view ; 
How fled the bright illnsion, and at once 
Fprsook thee plung'd in exquisite despair ! 
Thy friends $ the insects of a summer-|pale 
That sport and flutter in the mid'^day beam 
Of gay prosperity, or from the flow'rs. 
That in her sonsbme bloom, with ardour snck 
Sweetness uneam'd ; thy temporary fnendi^ 
Or blind with headlong fiiry, or abus'd 
By ev>y jtross imposture, or supine, 
Luird by the soogs of ease and pleasure, rnr 
Thy bitter destiny with cool r^»rd. 
Thy wrongs ev*n Nature's voice proclaimed 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 life. 
Exhausted ^11 their force : and, to insure 
Their execrable conquest, black and fell, 
Ev'n M 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, nrg'd 
Unheard the cause of Innocence ; the blush 
Of fickle frieiidship hence forgot to glow. 

Meanwhile from thete retreats with hapless speed. 
By ev'ry hope and ev'ry wish impellM, 
Thy stepa explor'd protection. Whence explored } 
' Ah me ! from whom, and to what cursed arms 
Wert thou betray'd : unfeeling as the rock 
Which splits the vessel ; while its helpless ovw. 
With shriekaof horrour« deprecate their fate ? 
O Earth ! O righteous Heav'n! coold'stthou behold; 
While yet thy patient hand the thm^er grasp'd. 
Nor huri'd the flaming vengeance ; could'kt Ihou see^ 
The violated vow, the marriage xite 
Profan'd, and all the saered ties, which hind 
Or Ood or man, abandon'd to Che soom 
Of vice by long impunity confirm^ ^ 

Buttbon, peffidioQS ! tremble,- , u ■ Ifon high 
The hand of jostjoe with impartial scale 
Each word, each action poises, and exacts 
Severn at on ement from th' offending heart ; 
Oh! what hast thoa to dread? what cndlnMpai^ - 



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£00 



BIACKLOCK'S POEBfS. 



Wbmt deep damnatioii most thy soul eodnre } 
On Earth' twas thine to perpetrate a crime, 
from whose grim visage guilt of shameless broir, 
Ev'n in its wild career, might shrink appalPd r 
Tis thine to fear herrafter, if not feel, 
Plagues that in Hell no precedent can boast. 
Ev'n in the silent, safe domestic hoar, 
Ev'n in the scene of tenderness and peace. 
Remorse, more fierce than all the fiends below. 
In fancy's ears, shall, with a thousand tongues. 
Thunder despair and ruin : all her snakes 
Shall rear their speckled crests aloft in air, 
With ceaseless horrid hiss ; shall brandish quick 
Their forky tongues, or roll their kindlmg eyes 
With sanguine, fiery glare. Ev'n while each 
Glows with the rapture of tnmultaous joy. 
The tears of injuHd beauty, the complaints 
Of truth immaculate, by thee expos'd 
To wrongs unnumber'd, shall disturb ^y bliss ; 
Shall freeze thy blood with f^r, and to thy sight 
Anticipate th' impending wrath of Ueav'n. 
In sleep, kind pause of being ! when the nerve 
Of toil unbend^ when, from the heart of care, 
Betires the sated vulture, when disease 
And disappointment quaff Lethean draughts 
Of sweet oblivion $ from his charge onblest. 
Shall speed thy better angel : to thy dreams 
Th' infernal gulph shall open, and disclose 
Its latent homwrs. . O'er the burning lake 
Of blue sulphareoos gleam, the piercing shriek. 
The scourge incessant, and the clanking chain. 
Shall scare thee ev'n to frenzy. On thy mind 
Its fiercest flames shall prey ; while from its depth 
Some gnashing fury beckons thy approach. 
And, thirsty of perdition, watts to plunge 
Thy naked soul, ten thousand fathom down. 
Amidst the boiling surges. Such their fiate. 
Whose hearts, indocile, to the sacred lore 
Of wisdom, truth, and virtue, banish far 
The cry of soft compassion ; nor can taste 
Beatitude supreme in giving joy ! 
Thy race, the product of a lawless flame, 
Ev'n while thy ibnd imagination plans 
Their future grandeur, in thy mock'd embrace 
Shall prematurely perish ; or survive 
To feel their father's infamy, and curse 
The tainted origin from which thy sprung. 
For, oh ! thy soul no soft compunction knew. 
When that fair form, where all the Graces Itv'd, 
Perfection's brightest triumph, from thy breast. 
The sport of mikler winds and seas was thrown. 
To glow or shiver in the keen extremes 
Of ev'ry various climate : when that cheek, 
Thig'd with the blush of Heav'n's uofiiuJing rose, 
Grew pale with pining anguish ; when that voice. 
By ai^pels tum*d to harmony mod love. 
Trembled with agony ; and, in thine ear, 
UtteHd the last extremity of woe. 

From foreign bounty she obtain'd that aid 
Which friendship, love, humanity, at lioine, 
Deny'd her blasted worth. From foreign hands 
Her glowing lips reoeiv*d the cooling draught. 
To sooth the fever's rage. From foreign eyes 
The tear, by nature, love and friendship 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 unhononr'd ; while the herse 
Of wealthy guilt crablaaon'd boasto the pridt 



Of painted heraldry, and icntptur'd stone 
Protects or flatters its detested fame. 
Vain trappings of mortality ! When these 
Shall crumble, like the woithless d«ist they hide; 
Then thou, dear spirit ! in immortal joy, 
Crown'd with mtrinsic honours, sfaalt appear ; 
And God himself, to listening vnorlds, proclaim 
Thy injnc'd tenderness, thy faith unstain'd. 
Thy miklness long insulted, and thy worth 
Severely try'd, and found at last sincere. 

But where, oh ! where shall art or nature find. 
For smarting sorrow's ever recent wound. 
Some blest restorative ; whose pow'rful charm 
May sooth thy friend's regret, within his breast 
Suspend the sigh spontaneous, bid the tear. 
By sad reflexion prompted, cease to foil ! 
These, still as moment^ days and years revolve, 
A consecrated off* ring, shall attend 
Tliy dear idea unefl5sc*d by time : 
Til! the pale night of destiny obscure 
Life's wasting taper ; till each torpid sense 
Peel Death's chill hand, and grief complain no more. 



A SOLILOSUT: 

Occasioned by the author's' escape ftom falling hito 
a deep well, where he must have been irrecoverably 
lost, if afovourite lap-dog had not, by the sound of 
its feet upon the board with which the well was co- 
vered, warned him of his danger. 

Quidquisquevitet, nunquam homini satis 
Gaotum est in hora a 

HoraL 

Whbbk am 1 !— O eternal Pow'r of Heav'n ! 
Relieve me ; or, amid the silent gloom. 
Can danger's cry approach no geo'rous ear 
Prompt to redress th' unhappy ? O my heart f 
What shall I do, or whither shall I turn f 
Will no kind band, benevolent as Heav'n* 
Save me involv'd in peril and in night ! 

F.rect with horrour standi my bristling hair ; 
My tongue forgets its, motion ; strength forsakea 
My trembling limbs ; my voice, impeird in vain. 
No passage finds ; cold, cold as death, my blood. 
Keen as the breath of winter, chills each vein. 
For on the verge, the awful verge of fote 
Scarce fix'd I stand ^ and one progressive step 
Had plung'd me down, unfathoroably deep. 
To gulpbs 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. [horroor. 

Ha ! what unmans me thus } what, more thao 
Relaxes ev'ry nerve, untunes my frame. 
And chills my inmost sonl ? — Be still, my heart ! 
Nor fltttf ring thus, in vain attempt to burst 
The barrier firm, by which thou art confln'd. 
Resume your functions, limbs t restrain those kiieea 
From smiting thus each other, ^ouse, my soul I 
Assert thy native dignity, and dare 
To brave this kiag of terrors ; to confront 
His cloudy brow, and unrelenting frown. 
With steady scorn, in conscious triumph bold. 
Reason^ that beam of uncreated day. 



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A SOULOQUT. 



SOT 



Tbttt wf of dotyy by God'i own brtttfa 

Iiilbs*d and kindled^ reasoii will dispel 

Those fiuicy'd teiroun : reason will inslruct thee, 

That death is HeavVs kind mterpostng hand. 

To snatch thee timely from hmpending woe ; 

From aggregated misery, whose puigt 

Can find no other period hot the grave. 

For oh !— -while others gaze on Natnre't face, 
The Terdant rale,the monntainB,wood8,and streams ; 
Or, with delight ine&ble, survey 
The Sun, bright image of hts parent God ; 
The seasons, in majestic order, round 
This tmry'd globe revolving ; young-ey'd Spring, 
Proliise of life and joy ; Summer, adom'd 
With keen effnlgence,bright*ning Heav*n and Earth; 
Autumn, replete with Nature's various boon. 
To Mess the toiing hind ; and Winter, grand 
With rapid storms, convulsing Nature's frame : 
Whilst others view Heav'n's all-involving arch. 
Bright with omramber'd worlds ; and, lost in joy. 
Fair order and utility befaoM ; 
Or, nnliitigu'd, tb' aroasing chain pursue. 
Which, in one vast all-compreheoding whole. 
Unit es th* immense stupendous works of God, 
Conjoining part with part, and, thro' the frame, 
Diffiiaing sacred bannony and jay; 
To me those fair vicissitudes are lost. 
And grace and beauty blotted from my view. 
The verdant va]e,the mountains, woods,and streams. 
One bocrid blank appear ; the young<ey*d Spring, 
Effulgent Summer, Autumn deckM in wealth 
To bless the toiling hind, and Whiter, grand 
With rapid storms, revolve in vain for me : 
Kbr the bright Sun, nor alUembrocing ar^h 
Of Heav% shall e'er these wretched oHm behold. 

O Beauty, Hannooy ! ye sister train 
Of Gimees ; you, who, in th* admiring eye 
Of God your charms displayed, ere yet, transcrib'd 
Ob Nature's form, your HeoWnly features shooe-: 
Why are yon snatched for ever from my sight. 
Whilst, in your stead, a boundless, waste eipanse 
Of nndiistittfuish'd borrour covers all } 
Wide o*er my prospect rueful darkness breathes 
Her inanqiicious v^iour; in whose shade, 
Fear, grief, and anguwh, natives of her reign. 
In social sadness, gloomy vigils keep : 
With them I walk, with them still doom'd to share 
Eternal b la ckn ess, without hopes of dawn. 

Heooe oft the hand of ignorance and scorn, 
To barb^nms mirth abandon'd, points me out 
With idiot grin : the supercilious eye 
Oft, from the noise and glare of prosp'roos life. 
On my obacurity diverts its gaze, 
Esultnig ; and, with wanton pride elate, 
Fdidtatas its own superior lot : 
Inhnman triumph ! Hence the pierdng taunt 
Of titled ins(Jence inflicted deep. 
Heoce the warm blush that paints ingenuous shame^ 
By coosciouj want insph^d ; th' unpitied pang 
Of kyfe and friendship slighted. Heoce the tear 
Of impotent oompamion, when the voice 
Of pain, by others felt, quick smites n)y heart, 
Ind noses all ita tenderness in vahi. 
All these, and more, on tbia devoted head. 
Have with collected bitterness been pour'd. 

Nor cod my sorrows here. The saered frma 
Of knowledge, scarce accessible to me. 
With heart-oonsuming angnish I behold j 
Kmkdgt, far which my soul inwtiate bomt 



With ardent thint Kor can these nseleti haada, 
Untntor'd in each lifo-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 assistance 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 all-indulging Heav'n, 
Their object! brought ? Ah ! where that gentle voice 
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 virtue, which, amid the storms, 
The mingled horrours of tumultuous life. 
Untainted, unsnbdu'd, the shock sustain'd } 
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 his m^sage bears. 
And pleas'd, from Earth averts impending ilL 
Alas ! no wife thy parting kisses shar'd : 
From thy expiring lips no child received 
Thy last, dear blessing and thy last advioe, 
Fnend, feUier, bcnefisctor, all at once. 
In thee forsook me, an unguarded prey 
For ev'ry storm, whose lawless fury roan 
Beneath the azure concave of the sky. 
To toss, and on my head exhaust its rage. 

Dgecttng prospect ! 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 cokl earth this poor, unshelter'd head 
Reclining, vainly from the rutMess blast 
Respite I beg, and in tbe shock expire. 

Me miserable! wherefore, O my soul ! 
Was, on such hard conditions, life desir'd ? 
One step, one friendly step, without thy guilt. 
Had plac'd me safe in that profound recess. 
Where, undistiirb'd eternal quiet reigns. 
And sweet forgetfulness of grief and care. 
Why, then, my coward soul ! didst thou reooil } 
Why shun the final exit of thy woe ? 
Why shiver at approachng dissolution } 

Say iriiy, by Nature's unresisted force. 
Is ev^ being, where volition reigns 
And active choice, impelled to shun their fkte, 
And dread destruction, as the worrt of ills; 
Say, why they shrink, why fly, why fight, why risk 
Precarious life, to leqgthen out its date, 
Which, lengthen*d, is, at bert, protected 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' tbe blaze of day 
Pours on their sight its soul-refreshing stream. 
To me extinct in everlasting shades : 
Yet heav'n-taught music, at whose powerful voice. 
Corrosive care and anguish, charm'd to peace, 

1 The character here drawn is that of the au- 
thor's father, whose onfoieieen fate had just before 
happened. 



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$os 



BUiCKLOCK'S POEMS. 



Ttmakt the heart, and yidd it aH to J07, 
Ne'er sooths their paogs. To their iweosata view 
Knowledge in vain her feireit treasure spreads. 
To tbem the noblest gift of bounteous Heav'n, 
Sweet ooDTersation, whose enliv'ning force 
Elates, distends, and, with nn&ding strength, 
Inspires the soul, remains for ever lost. 
The saored sympathy of social hearts. 
Benevolence, supreme delight of Heaven; 
Th' extensive wish, which in one wide embrace. 
Ml beings circles, when the swelling soul 
Partakes the joys of God ; ne'er warms their breasts. 

As yet my soul ne'er felt the oppressive weight 
Of indigenee unaided ; swift redress, 
Beyond the daring flight of hope, approach'd, 
Apd ev'ry wish of uature amply blest. 
Tho', o'er the future series of my fate, 
111 omens seem to brood, and stars malign. 
To blend their baleful fire: oft, while the Sun 
Darts boundless glory thro' th' expanse of lieav*n, 
A gloom of congregated vapours rise, 
Than night more dreadful in her blackest shrood. 
And o'er the face of things incumbent hang. 
Portending tempest ; till the source of day 
Again assefti the empire of the sky, 
And, o'er the blotted scene of Mature, throws 
A keener splendour. So, perhaps, that care. 
Thro' all creation felt, but most by man. 
Which hears with kind regard the tender sigh 
Of modest want, may dissipate my fears, 
And bid my hours a happier flight assume. 
Perhaps, enliv'ning hope ! perhaps my soul 
May drink at wisdom's fountain, and allay 
Her upeKtinguish'd aedoar in the stream: 
Wisdom, the constant magnet, where each wish. 
Set by. the hand of Nature, ever points. 
Restless and faithful, 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, prescrib'^ my sphere; 
Because oonsumnnato Wisdom thought i¥>t fit. 
In affluence and pomp, to bid me shine ; 
Shall I regret my destiny, and ctnrse 
That state, by Heav'n's paternal care, de»gn*d 
To train me up for scenes, with which compar'd, 
These ages, measur'd by the orbs of Heav'n, 
In blank annihilation fade away ? 
For scenes, where, fini»h'd by the Almighty art. 
Beauty and order open to the sight 
In vivid glory ; where the faintest rays 
Out-tlash the splendour of our mid-dsy Sun ? 
Say, shall the Source of all, who first assigned 
To each constituent of this wond'rdustfirame ' 
Jts. proper powers, its place and action due, 
' With due degrees of weakoess, whence results 
Concord ineffable ; shall he reverse, 
Or disconcert the universal scheme. 
The gen'ral good, to flatter selfish pride 
And blind desire ? — Before th' Almighty voice 
From non-existence call'd me into lUfe, 
What claim hail 1 to being ? what to shine 
In this high rank of creatures, form'd to climb 
The steep ascent of virtue, unrelax^d. 
Till infinite perfection crown their toil ? 
Who conscious of their origin divine, 
Eternal order, beauty, truth, and good, 
I?terceive, lihe their great Parent, and admire. 

Hush ! then, my heart, with pious cares suppcoB 
This timid pride and impotence of soul : 



Learn now, why all thoee multitudes, wbidi cmH 
This spacious theatre, and gaze on Heav'n, 
Invincibly averse to meet their fate. 
Avoid each danger: know this sacred truth ; 
All-perfect Wisdom, on each hving soul, 
Fjigrav'd this mandate, " to preserve their fxane, 
And bold entire the gen'ral orb of being." 
Then, with becoming rev'renoe let each pc^'r, 
In deep attention, hear the voice of Ood ; 
That awful voice, which, speaking to the sonl, 
Commands its resignation to his law ! 

For this, has Heav'n to virtue's glorious staga 
Ca)rd me, and plac'd the garland in my view. 
The wreath of conquest ; basely to desert 
The part' assign'd ine, and, with dastard fear. 
From present pain, the cause of future bliss, 
To shrink iuto the bosom of the grave ? 
How, then, is gratitude'^ vaiit debt repaid ? 
Where all the tender offices of love 
Due to fivtemal man, in which the heart. 
Each blessing it communicates, eiyoys ? 
How then shall I obey the first, great law 
Of Nature's legislator, deep imprest 
With double sanction ; restless fear of death. 
And fondness still to breathe this vital air? 
Nor is Ih' mjunction bard : who wouM not sink 
A while in teais and sorrow ; then emerge 
With tenfold lustre ; triomph o'er his pain ; 
And, with unfading glory, shine in Heav'n } 

Come then, my Kttle guardian genius ! doth'd 
In that fiuniliar form ; my Phylax, coone 1 
Let me caress thee, hug thee to my heart. 
Which beats with joy of life preaerv'd by thee. 
Had not thy interposing fondnen staid 
My btiod precipitetion, now, ev'n now. 
My soul, by Nature's sharpest pangs expell'd, 
Had left this frame ; bad pass'd the dreadful bound, 
Which life from death divides ; divides this scene 
From vast eternity, whose deep'ning shades. 
Impervious to the sharpest mortel sight. 
Elude our keenest search.— But jtil I [ err. 
Howe'er thy grateful, undesigning heart. 
In ills ibi^een, with promptitude might aid ; 
Yet this, beyond tby utmost reach of thought. 
Not ev'n remotely distant could'st thou view. 
Secure thy steps the fragile board oould press. 
Nor feel the least alarm where I bad sunk : 
Nor could'rt thou judge the awful depth helow. 
Which, from its'watry bottom, to receive 
My fail, tremendous ya^n'd. Thy utnuifi skill. 
Thy deepest pcaietration here had stopt. 
Short of its aim ; and in the strong embraee 
Of ruin struggling, left me to expire. 
No — Heav'n's high Sov'reign, provident of all. 
Thy passive organs moving, taught thee first 
To'cbeck my heedless course ; and hence 1 live. 

Eternal Providence ! whose equal sway 
Weighs each event ; whose ever-waking care. 
Connecting high with low, minute with great, 
Attunes the wondrous whole, and bids each part 
In one unbroken hannony conspire : 
Hail ! sacred Source of happ'n'::<« and life 1 
Substantial Good, bright intellectual Snn ! 
To whom my soul, by syrofiathy innate, 
Unweary'd tends ; aiwi finds, in thee alone. 
Security, eijoyment, and repose. 

By thee, O God ! by thy paternal ami. 
Thro' ev'ry period of my io&nt state, 
SustainU I bva to yield thee praises due. 



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EPISTLES. 



f09 



O ! ooaU 017 Uys, with heav'iitf raptaret warm, 

Hlg^ as thy tbroM, re-ecbo to the tongs 

Of aogeb I thence, O ! ooiild my prayer obtain 

One beam of iDRpiration, to inBame 

And anmnte my numbers ; Heaven's full choir, 

lo loftier strains, tb' inspiring God might sing ; 

Yet not mure ardent, more sincere, than mine. 

Bat tfao' my voice. t»eneath the seraph's note, 

Must check its fed^le accents, low deprest 

By dull mortality ; to thee, great Soul 

Of HcaT'n and Eaith ! to thee my ballow*d strain 

Of gntitude and praise shall still ascend. 



kiss- 



TO THE AUTHOR. 



WiiLi firicDdship's gentle pow*n my bosom fire» 
Bunnn, accept the Is^vs which you inspire : 
tfy IfBig-Deglecled Muse t4iy wosth revives, 
And gen'foiui ardour from thy 4«b« receives. 
Domestic troubles long my mind oppr«as*<l. 
And made the Mnse a strange^ to ray breast; 
K«t frioKUhip's softest cltari^ eould raise mysong. 
Till waji'd to life by |hy persuasive tongue. 
DsmoD, could 1 boast tby wondrous skill. 
WtR but nsy genius equal to my wUI, 
Tby praises I unweary'd would prooIaiBS 1 
And plaoa thee with the brightest sons of fama. 
Sure, Damon, 'tis some god thy breaH inspires. 
And filb thy soul with tbose ca'cstial fires: 
Thy tboufto m juiA, so noble, so reftn'd. 
That eleganty that ^itiions turn of mind. 
May jjisMy claim the pnise of all maakind. 

Why WD I caira to leave my native plains, 
To range 9a baneii bills with rustie swains ? 
Fsr from my fellow nyaaphs. a spdghtly thfong. 
And 1^, toe far fsom .tby. harmonious tongoe ! 
Yet ttin tby pnise shall be my fev'rite theme: 
£ach acbQ shall icsmwd with Damon's feme. 
And ev'iy %g^ «jiall bear his moch-lov'd name. 

O! cooM I bear then lo Acasto's seat. 
To Phoebos Md bis aons a known retreat s 
AoutOk vhose gnat iniiid and boiieal sonl 
Ko bo^ oui bias, ami on feniB control. 
He xictue'a patron k»g has firmly stood. 
And, in a vicious age, been greatly good. 
Oa has A^Mle IB some fragrant bow'r 
Imok'd DraniaHsaid confnaM her pow'r f 
As oft the tuneful maid has own'd his lays, 
And bless'd his song with well-deserved praise. 
Were Damon tbere,'to join the tuneful choir, 
With all the beauties of his verse and lyre, 
Hi| wit wwM cfvttiie o«r M vage plains, 
I^^Gsb our country nymphs, and rural swains. 
Bottho^ hard fete deny my food request. 
It esnnot tear thy mem'ry from my breast ; 
No— white life's blood runs warm in cv'ry vein, 
For thee A lasting friendship Til maintain; 
Aii|l when this busy scene of life is o'er, 
w Bartb retards the soul's excursioas more, 
1*11 jpy to meet th.ec ^l those happier scenes. 
Where nnalby'd, immortal pleasure reigns* 
There, crawn'd with youth unfading, let us stray 
2^th^ br^t legioos of eternal day; 
2JM, ^osential hApphiess seaorM, 
With joy we'll tell tha pain we ooce endur'd. 

Vou XVUL 



Some pow'r conduct ns thro' tiie glorious road. 
And lead ns safe to that divine abode. 
Where bliss eternal waits the virtuous soul. 
And joys on jo3rs in endless circles rott 
1740. 



Clkx 



THE AUTHOR'S ASSITER. 



Whbn.CIw seem'd foi^getfol of my pain^ 
A soft impatience tkrobb'd in cv'ry vein ; 
Each tedious houn I thought an age of woe ; 
So few their pleasures, and their pace so slow ; 
But,, when yournoving accents reach'd my ear» 
Just, as your taste, and as your heart sincere) 
My sonl ro-echo'd, while the melting strain 
Beat in each pulse, and fioWd in cv'ry vein. 

Ah ! teach my verse, like your's. to be refin'd ; 
Your force of language, and your strength of mind s 
Teach me t-hat winning, soft, persuasive art, 
Which ravishes the soul, and charms the heart : 
Then ev'ry heightenM pow'r I will empby 
To pahit your merits ai^id express my joy. 
Less soft the strains, the numbers less refin'd. 
With which great Chpbeus poUsh'd human kind ; 
Whose magic force could lawless' vice repruve. 
And teach a woHd the sweets of bociat love. 

When great Acastifs < virtues grac'd your layt. 
My soul was lost in the effulgent blaze ; 
Whose love, like Heav'n, to all mankind extends. 
Supplies the indigent, the weak defends ; 
Pursues the good of all with steady aim ; 
One bright, unweary'd^ unextingtiish'd flame. 
What transport felt my soul, what keen delight. 
When its fell Maze of ^ory met my sight ! 
But soon, too soon, the happy gleam was o'er; 
What joy can reign where Clio is no more ? 

Ah f bapleas me ! must yet more woes inspira 
The 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 prsy. 
Or from some arbour, conscious of my pain, 
While to the sighing breece I sigb in vain; 
May each new moment, fraught with new delight. 
Crown your bright d^y, and bless your silent night ; 
May heigfat'ning raptures ev'ry sense surprise. 
Music vour ears, gay prospects charm your eyes : 
May all on Earth, and all in Heav*n conspire 
To mak« your pleasures lasting and entire. 
'Tis thine alone can sooth my anxious breast. 
Secure of Miss, while conscious jfoa are Uest. 



EPISTLE I. 
TO TUB SAME, psois apufBiMiea. 

Fro|| wbci^ bleak north wind;^ chill the froeen sldc^ 
And Jov'd^di Da's lofty turrets rise, 

|. I A gentleman, who then resided in Galluway, 
Mjiltinguished for hospitality i for his ioviolabie attach- 
ment to the interests of hfs country ; and, in hhort^ 
for all those' virtues which adorned tiU aucc^turs, 
and dig«ify Jiucaaa nature. 
P 



Digitized by VjOOQ IC 



fi(r 



BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



Sing haav^oTy Mose ! to thy tovM Clio sin^ ; 
Tune thy fiiintVoice, and stretch thy droopisg wing. 

Could I, like Uriel, on some pointed ray. 
To your fifdr diitaot £dea wing my way, 
Oatstrip the momentB, scorn the swiftest wind. 
And leave er^ wing'd desire to lag behind ; 
So strong, so swift, I'd fly the port to gain; 
The speed of angels should pursue in vain. 

Ah ! whither, whither would my fancy stray ? 
Nor hope sustains, nor reason leads the way : 
Vog let my eyes in scaldhig sorrows flow. 
Vast as my loss, and endless as my woe : 
Flow, till the torrent quench tlus vital flame, 
Andf with increasing bNrars, increase the stream* 
Yet, Clio, hear, in pity to my smart. 
If gentle pHy e'er oould touch thy heart : 
Let but one line suspend my constant care^ 
Too iaint for hope, too lively for despair: 
Thee let me still with wonted rapture find 
The Muse's patroness, and poet's frieod. 



EPISTLE 11. 

TO DonKDA, wrra vekicb raBsSBv'm 

Ir fHendsbip gaink not pardon for the Muse, 
Immortal Otway, sure, will plead excuse : 
For eyes like thine he wrote his moving lajrs. 
Which feel the poet, ana which weep his praise. 
Whether great Jaffier tender griefs inspires. 
Struggling with cruel fate, and high desires $ 
Or Belvidera's gentler accents flow. 
When all her soul she breathes in love and woe: 
Drawn from the heart the varioiis passions shine^ 
And wounded Nature bleeds in ev'ry line. 
Am when some turtle spies her lovely mate 
Pieio'd by the ball, or flutt'riog in the net, - 
Her litUe heart just bursting with despair. 
She droops her wings, and breathes her sonl inrair. 



EPISTLE m, 
TO MISS ANNIE RAEt 

•WVTB THB MAMUAC OF tPICTETUS, AMD TABtATITftB 
OP CCBBi. 

60, happy leaves I to Anna's view disclose 

What solid joy from real virtue flows ; 

When, like the worid, self-pois'd, th' exalted aoni. 

Unshaken, scorns the storms that round her roll ; 

And, ia herself ooileeted, joys to find 

Th' untainted image of th' eternal mind. 

To bid mankind their end supreme pursue, 
On God and Nature fix their wand'ring view ; 
To teach reluctant passion te obey, 
Check'd, or impeli'd by reason's awful sway ;^ 
From films of errour purge the mental eye. 
Till undisscmUed pood in prospect lie; 
The soul with heav'n-born virtue to inflame r 
8och was the Stoic's and Socratic's aim. 

O ! could they view from yon immortal scene. 
Where beauty, truth and good, unclouded, r«gn. 
Fair hands like thine revolve their iabour'd page. 
Imbibe their truth, and in their task engage ; 
With rapture would they hail so fair a tight, 
Aai feel new bliss in Heave's supreme delight. 



' TO MISS D. JET. « I 

IN AKSWBB TO A LBTTKa SHB WBOTB TBB AOmOf 
ROM DUMPRIBS. 

May Hesven's best btesstogs on thy head descend, 
Whose goodness recollects an absent friend ; 
Brighter and brighter may thy moments roll, 
Joy warm thy heart, and virtue tune thy soul ; 
With leogth'ning life still happier be thy slate. 
As by thy worth, distioguish'd by thy fete. 
Oh ! if my ardent vows successful prove; 
If merit charms, if God himself he love ; 
Of all the lots his bounty e*er assign'd 
To bless the best, the noblest oTmankind ; 
For none shall happier constellations shine. 
None boast a sphere of ampler bliss than thine* 

Few of thy sex, alas f how wond*roos few. 
Bestow those kind regards to viitoe dne : 
A humble name, of wealth too small a dare, 
A form unseemly, or a clownish air ; 
These casual faults the squeamish fair disgnsl. 
Who to be thought refln*d, become nnjnsL 
Not such Dorinda's morer intense survey. 
It looks for charms unoonscions of decay ; 
Sorfoce and form pervades with nobler taste. 
And views God's image on the heart imprest. 
O may I ever share thy khid esteem. 
In fortune's change, and life's tomnltaons dream : 
If future hours be ting*d with colours gay. 
These let thy firieodship mbc its heavenly ray ; 
O'er all my fete if adverse planets reign, 
O let thy gentle pity sooth my pain : 
With this one precious good securely bfest. 
Let chance or fbrtune regulate the rest. 

Since stall to me exteiHl thy gen'rous carre^ 
My study, healtii, employment, and affiurs ; 
These ever in the same dull ehumel'llow, 
A lacy current, uniformly slow. 
Thus sliK fhxn hour to hottr,l)mn day to day, 
Ltfe*s glimm'ring- tAper languishes away ; 
A doubtful flame, a dink portentous Kght, 
That wattes, and sickens into endless nigfatr 

The modes of dress, the saphisfk k«en debate. 
The varioBS politics of church or stata, 
A soul like thine will think but trivial news. 
Beneath the care of friendUiip^ and the Mnse. 

In vain I urge dull thought from line to line. 
Fancy grows restive to the fond design ; 
. Here let the Muse her weary pmions vest. 
Be ever kind, and oh 1 be ever blest. 



TO MISS A. H. ON HER MARStMABE. 

I HATB the stiff address, the studied phraae 
Of formal complimeot, and empty praise. 
Where fency labours to express the heart. 
With all the paii^t, and- impotence of art : 
But when with merit friendship's charms ooo8|> if a 
To bid my hand resume the votive lyre. 
Once more my vei&s their former laptarea knov. 
And all. the Muses in my bosom gtow. 

1 The yonng lady to whom the Monodjr it ii 
scribed. 



I 



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flttSTLftS. 



Hi 



tlwd, wlMae loal with efeiy tweetnew crowned, 
DUFotes light, and life, and pleasure round; 
WhoM heart, with ev'ry tender mom <rndow*d, 
Gkmr, like creative Love, Mrenely good ; 
Wbaie euy manners at one view display 
Fancy's quick flash, and reason's steady ray ; 
While each ioterual charm, with sweet surpriM, 
BesDW thro' thy farm, and lights thy radiant eyes; 
Ble«'d with thow joys, may all thy moments flow, 
Whicfa cons c ious virtue only can hestow ; 
Hut tolt, eternal sunshine of th^ mind, 
S«eH as thy charms, and as thy soul rcfln'd. 
Msy Hear^ protect thee with a father's care, 
And nake thee happy, as it made thee fair. * 
may the man now sacred to thy choice, 
With all his soul the real blessiing prize ; 
Ow common ewl o'er all yonr views presidPt 
Ok wish impel yon, and one pnrpom gukle ; 
fie all yonr days aaspiciouB, calm, and bright. 
One icena of tender, pure, unmix*d delight. 
Till time and fete exhaust their endless store. 
And MeaVn alone can make your pleasure more. 



TV THE REVEREND MR, JAMESON. 

WsT moonM my firiend, what caon shall T assign ? 
Why tmarU that tender, honest soul of thine ? 
What star, a foe to all that's good and great. 
Dues, with malignant inflnence, dash thy late ? 
Why shrinka my heart with fears not understood ? 
What strange portentous sadness chills my blood ? 
1 breathe thy latent sorrows in mine ear, 
iiid prompt the startmg, sympathetic tear. 
As tender mothers, with assiduous view. 
Their infant o&pring's wand'ring ateps pursue. 
As, wiog'd from HeavHi, celestial guardiaus wait, 
I To antch their fkv'rite charge from insUnt fate : 
I hieudsbip thy close attendant shall remain, 
I Prepaid to soften, or partake thy pain : 
Whether thy form, to pale diseaM a prey, 
Beneath its pressure pants the tedious day ; 
Or if some tender ifrief dissolves thy mind. 
Each wish cxtingoisb'd, and each hope resign'd : 
For thee my spints shall more languid flow ; 
For thee, the flame of lifo suspend its glow ; 
F^ thee, this heart with sorrows new shall groan, 
And add thy part of anguish to its own* 
Whatever aeenea thy pensive walk invite, 
Tkitber thy friend shall bend his speedy flight, 
^y, shall our social steps together stray 
IW groves that glimmer with'a twilight ray ? 
Or thro* some boundless solitary pUin, 
Where Melancholy holds her pensive reign } 
Ssy, thro* embowering myrtles shall we ruve 
BedcaM with recent tears by hopeless lo\c ? 
Or, where neglected worth, from men retir'd, 
la anoomplatning agony expired ? 
There in the silent cypress shade recltn'd, 
Ia each in each a faithful suff'cer find ; 
There let our mingling plaints to fleav'n ascend ; 
There, let our eyes their ceaseless currents bieod : 
Oar ndngfing plaints shall stop the passing gale, 
Aod each CDamoor'd echo sigh the tale. 
Fv whilst I speak, ev'n in this mortal honr, 
Miapt rdoitlcM Death cxprti it* pow'r, 



Perliaps the shaft already wings its Way*, 
Too surely aim'd, and Bamet » falls its prep 
Him Nature, with no common care, designed. 
His form embeUish*d, and bis soul refin*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 Heav*n's own loveliest image was imprest* 
Like Heav'o's eternal goodness, unconfln'd. 
His soul, with one fond wish, embraced mankind s 
For them his time, his cares were all employed ; 
Their griefs he fcit ; their happiness enjoy'd ; 
His parents now, in bitterness of pain. 
Shall ask from Heav'n and Eaith tlieir son in viun I 
In vain, his friends, with pious gifts shall tell 
How gay he bloesom'd, and liow early fell. 
Thro* all his fraftaie a fever's fury reigns. 
Consumes his viuls, and inflames his veins, 
In tears the salutary arts retreat, 
And virtue views with pangs her darling's late. 

Here pauM, my friend, and with due candour owA 
Affliction's cop not mix'd for thee alone ; 
Others, like thee, its dire contents must drain. 
And share their full mheritance of pain. 
But, O! may brighter hours thy life attend ; 
Such as from Heav*n on happy lore desceud ; 
Such gleams, as still on conscious virtue shine. 
By God and man approved, be ever thine. 
May reason, arm'd with each persuasive art, 
Inspire thy precepts, as she guides thy heart: 
Nor let thy soul the smallest portion know 
Of aU my past distress, or preMut woe. 



AN EPITAPH, ON ms VATHEK. 

Hebb drop, Benevo1eiu», thy sacred tear, 

A friend of human kind reposes here : 

A roan, content himself, and Gjd, to know; 

A heart, with every virtue fonnM to glow : 

Beneath each pressure, uniformly great; 

In life untainted, unsurpris'd by fate : 

Such, tho' obscur'd by various ills, he shone ; 

ConsoI'd his neighbour's woes, and bore bis own : 

Heav'n saw, and snatch'd firom fortune's ^ge ita 

- prey, 
To share the triumphs of eternal da]r. 



TO MRS. ANNE RhACRLOCK^ 
THE AUTHOR'S MOTHER. 

WITH A COPY OP TUB SCOTCB BOrTTON Or HtS fOZUK 

.0 THOU ! who gav'st me first this world t' explore^ 
Whose frame, for me, a mother's anguish bore ; 
For nie, whose heart iU viUl current drain'd, 
Whose bosom nurs'dme,and whose arms sustaia*dy 

I Mr. Bamet, an Englishman, a dear and inti- 
mate friend of our- poet. He was a student of phy- 
sic in the university of Edinliurgh; and at the time 
the above epistle was written, lay dangerously ill 
of a fever, of which be died a few days after, in the' 
bloom or youth, much lamented by all who knew 
him, but particularly by Mr. iilacklock, who scarce 
ever mentioned his name without a tear. 



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919 



BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



What tbo* thy tuii, dependent, weak, and blind, 
Deplore hU wishes checkM, bis hopes ounfinM ? 
Tho* want, iixipending, cl« ud each chearless day. 
And death with life seem struggling for their prey ? 
Let this consiile, if not reward, thy pain. 
Unhappy he may live, but not in vain. 



PROLOGUE TO OTHELLO: 

SPOKKK IT MR. LOTS, AT T» 0?12«»0 Or TBB 
PLAY-H009B IN DOMFRIBS. 

Yb souls ! by soft humanity insp<r'd. 
For genVons hearts and manners free admir'd ; 
Where taste and commerce, amicably joined. 
Embellish life, and cultivate the mind : 
Without a blush you may suppoit oar stage ; 
No tainted joys shall here your view engage. 
To tickle fools with prostituted art. 
Debauch the iancy, and corrnpt the heart. 
Let others stoop $ such meanness we despise, 
And please with virtuous objects virtuous eyes. 

The tender soul what dire convulsions tear, - 
Wheq wbisp'ring villains gam tb' incautious ear; 
How heav'nly mild, yet how intensely bright. 
Fair innocence, tho* clouded, strikes the sight ; 
What endless plagues from jealous fondness flow. 
This night our fiuthful scenes attempt to show : 
No new-bom whim, no hasty flash uf wit; 
But Nature's dictates, by great Shakespeytre writ 

Immortal bard ! who, with a master hand. 
Could all the movements of the soul command ; 
With pity sootb, with terrour shake her frame; 
In love dissolve her, or to rage inflame. 

To taste and virtnc, HeaT*n-descended pair ! 
While pleas'd we thus devote our art and care ; 
To crown our ardour, let your fav'ring smile 
Reward our hopes, and animate our toil : 
So may your eyes no weeping moments know. 
Bat when they share some Desdemona*s woe^ 



PROLOGUE TO HAMLETx 

SPOKBM BY MR. LOVB, AT DUHFRIBB. 

IirspiR'D with pleasing hope to enteliain, 

Once more we oflFer Shakespeare's beav*nly strmn j 

While hov'ring round, his laurePd shade surveys 

What eyes shall pour their tribute to his praise ; 

What hearts with tender pity shall regret 

The bitter grief that clouds Ophelia's fate. 

Once fair she flourished. Nature's joy and pride. 
But droop'd and withered, when a father dy'd. 
Severe extremes of tenderness and woe. 
When love and virtue mourn one common blow; 
When griefs alternate o'er the bosom reign. 
And evVy sense, and ev'ry thought is pain f 
Here Nature Lriumph'd, on her throne sublime. 
And moi'k'd each pigmy Muse of later time ; 
Till Shakespeare touch'd the soul with all her smart. 
And stamp'd her living image on the heart. 

From bis instructive 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 letire ; 



Tho* yet the traitor seem fton barm secure^ 
And fate a while suspend tb' avenging hour : 
Tho' fortune nurse him with a mauler's care. 
And deck ber pageant in a short^Iiv'd glare: 
In vain he struggles to disguise his smart, 
A living plague corrodes his ulcerM heart ; 
While ev'ry form of ruin meets his eyes. 
And Heav'n's vindictive terroun round him rise; 

Sueh salutary truths theii light diffosej 
Where honours due attend the tragic Muse; 
Deep by ber sacred signature imprest. 
They mingle with the soul, and warm the 
Hence taught of old, the pious and the sage. 
With veneration, patroniz'd tlie stage. 

But, soft! methinks you cry with soi 
*' How long Intend you thus to moralise?" 
Our prologue deviates from establisb'd rules, 
Nor shocks the fair, nor calls tha critics foob, 
Tis true ; irat, dully fond of common sense. 
We still think spleen to wit has no pretence; 
Think impudence is'&r remote from spirit. 
And modesty, tbo^ ankwaid, has some merit 



AN EPIGRAM: 

TO A 08NTLBUAH, WHO ASKBO MT SBHTIHIim Of 

HIM. 

DBARFabtus! me if well yon know. 
You ne'er will take me lor your fee; 
If right younelf you compiihend. 
You ne'er wtU take ma lor yoor frioid. 



AK EPIGRAM: 

ON PI7NCH. 

Hbncb ! restless care, and low design $ 
Hence ! foreign compliments and wina : 
Let gen'roos Britons, brave and freoi 
Still boast their punch and honesty. 
Life is a bumper filPd by fata, ^ 
And we the guests who share the treat ; 
Where strong, insipid, sharp and sweat. 
Each other duly temp'ring meet. 
A while with joy the scene is crowned ; 
A while the catch and toast go round : 
And, when the full carouse is o'er. 
Death pufli the lights, and shuts the door. 
Say then, physicians of each kmd. 
Who cui« the body, or the mind ; 
What barm in drinking can there be» 
Since punch and life so well agree \ 



AN EPIGRAM: 

ON MARRIAGE. 

YouMG Celia, now a blooming bride. 
Sat from her friends apart, and cry'd; 
Her fttthful Chloe viewM her care. 
And thus consoi'd the weeping fair : 

'< Good Heav'n ! in tears \ for sham^ ! look gay; 
Nor cloud with grief your nuptial day* 



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ADVICE TO THE LADIES. 



iia 



If brides in tears rocctTe tbeir spoQ«M, 
What mtiit the baplest wretch who loses ? 
Besides, mj dear, yoa know 'tis rcasoo, 
That a!l things have a proper season : 
Now, 'lis in marriage a plain case. 
That crying holds the second place. 
Let Tulgar souls in sorrow sink. 
Who always act, and never think : 
Bat, to rejecting minds like you, 
Marria^ can sure have nothing new.* 



AN EPIGRAM. 

ON TUB SAMl. 

Waoim aeab the marriage vow^ 
*Tb well agreed, makes one of taro : 
But who can tell, save G—d alone. 
What munbers may make two of one. 



AN EPITAPH, 
ON A FAVOUEITE LAP-DOG. 



I nvta bark'd when out oC i 

I never bit without a reason ; 

I ne'er insulted weaker brother ; 

Nor vronfc*d by force nor fraud another. 

Though brutes are plac'd a rank below, 

Ham for mao, could be say so ! 



THE AUTHOWS PICTURE. 

Waai in my matchless graces wrapt I stand. 
And touch each feature with a trembling band; 
Ddga, lovely Self ! with art and nature's pride. 
To mix the culours, and the pencil guide. 

Self h the grand pursuit of half mankind : 
Hon vwA a cniwd by Self, like me, are blind! 
By Self, the fop, in magic 'colours, shown, 
Tho' scorned by ev*ry eye, delights his own: 
When age and wrinkles seize the conqu\iog maid, 
Self, not the glass, reflecU the flaU'ring shade. 
Tha, wonder- working Self ! begin the lay j 
Tby charms to others, as to me, display. 

Straight is my person, but of little size ; 
Lbsd are my cheeks, and hollow are my eyes : 
My youthful down is, like my talents, rare ; 
raiiiely distant atan^ each single hair. 
My toice too rough to charm a lady's ear ; 
So mooth, a child may listen without fear ; 
Not foroft'd in cadence soft and warbling laysi 
To sooth the fair thro* pleasure's wanton ways. 
My farm so fine, so regular, so new ; 
My port. 90 manly, and so fresh my hue ; 
Oft, as 1 meet the crowd, they laughing say, 
" See, see Memento mori cross the way." 
The nvish'd Proserpine at last, a-e know, 
Grew fondly jealous of her sable beau ; 
^, thanks to Nature J none from me need fly ; 
One heart the Devil could wound — so cannot L 

Yet, tho' my person fearless may be seen. 
There is soma danger in diy graceful mien : 
For, as some vessel, toss'd by wind and tide, 
teiidi o'er tha waveiy and rocks from side to side; 



In just vlbratioo thus I always move : 

This who can view, and not be forc'd to love ? 

Hail! charming Self! by whose propitious aid 
My form in all its glory stands displav'd : 
Be present still ; with inspiration kind. 
Let the same fo'ithful coluirs paint the mind. 

Like all mankinJ, with vanity I'm bleas'dj 
.Conscious of wit I never yet possessed. 
To strong desires my heart an easy prey. 
Oil fecU their forne, but never owns their sway. 
This hour, perhaps, as death I hate my foe; 
The next 1 wonder «hy I should do so. 
Tho' poor, the rich I view with careless eye j 
Scorn a vain oath, and bate a serious lye. 
I ne'er, for satire, torture commoif sense ; 
Nor show my wit at God's, nor man's expensa. 
Harmless 1 live, unknowing and unknown; 
Wish well to all, ami yet do good to none. 
Unmerited contempt 1 hate to bear ; 
Yet on my faults, like others, am severs. 
Dishonest flames my bosom never fire ; 
The Ixid I pity, and the good adnure : 
Fond of the .Muse, to her dev«te my dayn. 
And scribble — ^not for pudding:, but for praise. 

lliese careless lines if any virgin hears. 
Perhaps, in pity to my joyleds years. 
She may consent a gen 'rous dame to own; 
And I no longer sigh the ni|rhts alone. 
But, should the fair, affected, vaio or niee. 
Scream with the fears inspir'd by fmgs or mietf 
Cry, " Save us, Heav'ii ! a spectre, not a roan-!". 
Her hartshorn snatch, or interpose her &n : 
If I my tender overture repeat ; 
O ! may my vows her kind reception meet! 
Mav she new graces on my form bestow. 
And, with UU honouia, dignify my brow t » 



ADVICE 

TO THE 

LADIES, 

A 

SATIRE. 



'Some country-girl, scarce to a curtsey bred. 
Would I much raUier than Cornelia wed. 

Drydeu's Juvenal. 

Prcfacb. 
WHETHBa the author's designs were benevolent 
or ill-natured, in the writing or publication of 
this piece to the world, it is uunecessary for him 
to discover; for even though he should, with all 
imaginable candour, express the motives whidi 
influenced him, every one will presume upon the 

^ The manner in which our author has condnat- 
ed this piece is very remarkable. None but one 
possessed of Mr. Biacklock's happy temper of mind, 
would have been so pleasant at his own expetice. 
However, lest the- ladies of future ages should think 
this humorous description real, it may not be im- 
proper to tell them, that, if the original had been 
in the hands of a foithful painter, the picture woold 
by no means bav« beon so ludicrous. jK. if. 



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tu 



BLACKLOCK'S PO£MS. 



same right of judging as if nosudi dtscoTcrfhad ; 
been made. Permit him therefore only to say, | 
that this satire is neither absolutely personal, 
^ Dor comprehensive of all. To attack anf par- 
ticular dMiracter is no less detraction in verse < 
than in pro«p ; or soppo^e the intention more | 
good-natured, it is confiningr those moral lessons 
to one, which may be applic^ible to a thousand. 
To attack any sex or species fur qualities insepa- 
rable from it, is really to write a satire against 
Nature. So that the business of one who would 
assume a character so delicate and unwelcome, 
is neither to confine himself to individuals, nor 
attempt to include the whole. 

The author thought it proper to cortvey his senti- 
ments m an epistolary way, that the eye might 
still be directed to- one principal figure. Such 
characters and passions as could not thus proper- 
ly be introduced, are brought in by frequent di- 
gressions, with as much ease as possible. For 
this I need only instance the characters of Flavia 
«nd Timandnu 

The most effectual way either to gain or preserve 
the attention of readers in satire is, by a delicate 
and well-presenred irony. This the author has 
as seldom violated as the subjects be treated, 
and his 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 
sex; first, in their earliest appearances in the 
world, then in marriage, as mistresses of a fami- 
ly, as mothers, and the difierent rules too often 
<>beerved in dress abroad and at home.' This ac- 
count of oar author's plan was thought requisite, 
lest the reader, when glancing over the poem, 
migfat fose himself in it. A. G> 



ADVICE TO THE LADIES. 



INSCaiB D TO 11U8 • 



Credo podicitiam* Satumo rege, moratam 
In terris, visaiAque diu. ' 



41V. 



In Satum*s reign, at Kature*s early birth, 
There was that thing call'd Chastity on earth. 

Dryden. 

O TH0I7, wbom still m vain I must adore. 
To Beatity much in debt, to Fortune more ; 
With wit and taste enough thy faults to hide, 
To gild thy foil/, and to plume thy pride; 
Soon shall my heart, a rebel to thy chain. 
Assert its freedom, and thy powV disdain. 
Yet 'ere kind Fate my liberty restore, ' [more) 
<VVben twice five hundred pounds can charm no 
For thee the Muse shall tune tb* instructive lay. 
And thro* the maze of life direct thy way : 
The Muse, long stody'd in her sex's art, 
Th«L head designing, and eomipted heart. 
For thee shall sing ; nor thou too rashly blame 
The last iaint struggles of a dying fiame. 

The maid whom Nature with maternal -csae 
lias form'd to scatter ruin ev'ry where. 
When first on life her radiant eyes she throws, 
J>ress, flaU*ry, pleasure, billet-doux, and beaux ; 
Then, conscious of her weakness, let her fly 
Tba leader lisp, the iove>illamin'd eye; 



Let her alike distrust her strength and ait, 
And cautious to some maiden aunt impart 
The important charge, her honour and her bent* 
But soon the first emotions of desire 
Shall with simplicity and truth retire; 
The conscious tongue, inspired by distant tiews, 
Its first alliance with the soul shall lose; 
llie blood, by candour taught before to glow. 
From 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, 
4Secure firom barm, and destin'd to undo. 
Yt:t while the first of public toasts she reigns. 
While half the nation struggles in her cltains. 
If not like thee, with Fortune's bouuty bkst. 
Let her at last resign the world to rest. 
Ere Time his empire o'er her charms assume. 
And tinge with fainter hue her native bloom. 

In vernal youth, and beauty's gayest pride. 
The charming Fiavia thus becomes a bride. 
For what bless'd youth, O Muse, with truth declare, 
Could Fate reserve the conquest of the fair ? 
To what resistless art, what charms divine. 
What soft address, could she her heart resign ? 
Did youth, good-nature, sense, inflict the wound ? 
** No — ^peevish seventy with five thousand pound." 
Hail holy ties ! by wond'rout charms endear'd, 
I'he paralytic nerve, and hoary beard. 
What mighty joys most bless such equal love. 
When hand hi hand gay Spring and Winter ftove ? 
Beneath the specious semblanee of a wife 
She flaunts a lioens'd prostitute for life. 
Why all this hurry ? Flavja was afraid 
Her feme should wither, or her beauty lade. 

Favour'd of Heav'o, hr happier stars are thibe; 
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 '^is a wretched thing to be alone ; [teems, 
When pregnant Night with ghosts and spectres 
And sportive fairies prompt tumultuous dreams; 
Then, tho* no lower wish thy breast inflame. 
Though spotless be thy fancy as thy name. 
In solitary fears no longer pine. 
But to protecting man thy charms resign. 

And now, before the raptuFd swain should doy 
With known embraces^ and repeated joy ; 
Now is the time thy wit, thy pow'rs to strain. 
And tease him still some favVite boon to gain. 
Now with eternal tempest slun his ears. 
Now vary alt the scene with fits and tears; 
Now (pitfas'd to view vicissitudes of pain. 
To view thy tyranny new force obtain) 
To all his tender arts and soft pursuit 
Still be thy tongue inexorably mute. 

Nor yet thy plagues to one alone confine. 
Portending public ruin cornels shine; 
Angle f<»r •hearts, and when you catch the prey. 
Long 00 the line your foolish captive play. 

But should thy fond, officious fool be near. 
With jealous looks, and with attentive ear ; 
Should he on ev'ry private hour intrude. 
And watch those pleasures he was meant to shroud ; 
With aU thy skill bis jealous rage ferment. 
The look inviting, and the soft complaiiit^ 



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ADVICE TO THE LADIES. 



tlS 



WXh equal hwtnr ev^ry lover blesi. 
The fentle'trhispery and the fund caresB ; 
mi the weak dape, m every tender seose, 
Feeb, iiMMe than Hell, the torture of suspense. 
Then if he dares to munnur at his fate. 
Tell him with smiles, repentance is too late. 
But if» with haui^hty tone, and lordly pride. 
He dictates serious rules thy life to gruide ; 
With weeping eyes, and melting sounds, regret 
Hie destin'd aorrows which on woman wait ; 
To tyrant man sabjected during life, 
A wrrtcfaed daughter, and more wretched wife; 
Alike onblecs'd, whatever her form inspire, 
lioentioQS lidieule, or low desire ; 
She pines away a life to bliss unknown ; 
A ilave to ev*ry humour but her own ; 
While with despotic nod, and watchful gaze. 
Her jcaloQS master all her steps sunresrs : 
With strict reserve each lover if she treat, 
Hien all ber portion is contempt or hate ; 
But if more free she spend the cheerfal day 
Among the witty, innocent, and gay. 
From all her hopes domestic pleasure flies, 
Sospicioa breathes, and lo ! her honour dies. 
Soch cruel stars on woman still attend. 
And cooldsi thoa hope their fury to suspend } 

Perhape aome lover may thy son! inflame. 
For natore in esich bosom is the same ; 
Then, bat by slow degrees, his fiite decide. 
And gratiiy at onoe thy love and pride. 
For love and pride, beneath each dark disguise, 
He«re m yoar breast, and fiparkle in your eyes: 
Hoire'er your sex in chastity pretend 
To hate the lover, but admire the friend, 
BesireB more warm their natal throne maintain, 
Platonic passions only reabh the brain. 

Thon^ in the cloyster*s secret cell immurM 
By bohs, by ev*ry name in Heaven secur'd ; 
Though in the close seragtio^ walls confln'd $ 
Ev^d there your fimcy riota on mankind : 
Your penons may be fixM, your forma recluse 
While miwls are feithleas, and while thoughts an 



Should Love at last (whom has not Love subda'd^) 
Fkill on thy sense some killing form obtrude i 
! then beware, nor with a lavish hand 
Too promptly offer, ere thy swain demand. 
Our mothers, great in virtues as in crima. 
Disdained the venal spirit of our times : 
Vice, oft repeli'd, their stubborn hearts essay'd^ 
But iif at last their yielding soul she sway'd, 
Kor hopes, nor lean, nor tntVest could restrain, 
Beav*n charm'd. Hell threatened, AVrice brib'd in 



Fools they, and folly's common lot they shar'd, 
lastinct their guide, and pleasure their rewards 
Their wiser ras^e pursue a happier scheme, 
Fleasure their instrument, and wealth their aim ; 
Nor maid , nor wife, nnbribM her heart bestows. 
Each dart is tipp'd with gold which Cupid throws. 

Hins should the dice uivite thy venturous hand. 
Or debts of honour fresh supplies demand ; 
Should china, monkeys, gems thy heart' engage, 
The gilded coach. Or liv*«yM equipage ; 
Half meet, half shun his wish ; nor ^e, nor nice; 
Delay the pleasui^, to inhanoe the price. 

While Night o^er Heav'n and Earth extends her 



lesdiitaaidf 



Then, but with art, thy. schemes of pleasure Iay» 
Lest 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 exerts his happy powV, 
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 vain Timandra mourn^ 
Supper is serv'd, no husband yet returns* 
** Not yet retoniM I Good Heav*n avert my fear ^ 
What unforeseen mischance detains my dear ? 
Perhaps in some dark alley, by surprise. 
Beneath a villain's arm he murder'd lies; 
Or by some apoplectic fit deprest. 
Perhaps, alas ! he seeks eternal rest. 
Whilst I an early widow mourn in vain: 
Haste ! fly, ye slaves, restore my lord again !>' 
She spoke, she shriek'd alond, she rung the belly 
Then senseless, lifeless, on the couch she felL 
*' Say, Muse ; for Heav*o hides nothing from thy view« 
Nor Heirs deep track''; say, what .could then ensue J 

Lorenzo, touched with sympathy divine, 
Heard the shrill sound, and recognis'd the sign; 
He came, he spoke, and if report say true» 
Her life rekindled, and her fears withdrew. 
The lover vanished, and the tumult past. 
The unsuspecting husband came at last; 
The spouse with equal joy his transports crowned. 
Nor on her lips were Osssio's kisses found K 

Let scandal next no slight attention share. 
Scandal, the fav'rite science of the fair, 
O'er which her fancy broods the summer-day. 
And scheming wastes the midnight-taper's ray ; 
The laugh significant, the biting jest. 
The whisper loud, the sentence half snppreity 
The seeming pity for another*!; fame. 
To praise with coldness, or with caution blame ^ 
Still shall thy malice by those ^rU succeed. 
And ev'ry hour a reputation bleed. 
Thus shall thy words, thy looks, thy silence wound. 
And plagues be waited in each whisper round. 
Nor on these topics long let fancy dwells 
In one unite the pedant and the belle : 
With learned jargon, ever misapply'd. 
Harangue, illustrate, criticise, decide. 
For in our days, to ffain a sage's name. 
We need not plod for sense, but banish shame : 
TIs this' which opens every fair-one's eyes. 
Religion, sense, and reason to despise ; 
'TIS thus their thouithts aflected freedom boest^ 
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 fiiir such manners scorn, but, brave and fi«e. 
Are damn'd for sacred singularity. 

Thee with a mother's name should Fortune grace. 
And propagate thy vices in thy race. 
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 tenderness, or groundless spite. 
Hence future ages 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 they 

> See OtheUo. 



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BLACKLOCK'SPO£H&. 



Ah ! m; had gracious Heav'n alone consign'd 
JL prey to burning wrath your worthless kind; 
Or bad the first fair she, to Hell allvM, 
Creation's sole reproach, curs'd Heav»n and dy'd ; 
Nor introdac'd in Nature'fs faultlefs frame 
The wretched heritage of guilt and shame. 
Sacli the maternal pledges you bestow. 
Expressive earnests of eternal woe. 

Still as a constant curse regard thy home, 
Thy plea8ure*s penance, and thy beauty's tomb ; 
Now mad with rAge, now languishing with spleen. 
There still in wretched dishabile be seen : 
Long let thy nail its polishM jet extend, 
Arbund thy neck thy greasy locks descend ; 
And round thee, minjcli^g in one spicy gale. 
Kitchen and nurs*rj' all their sweets exhale. 

But if in more extensive spheres you move. 
With all the glare of dress your form improve; 
To aid its pomp let either India join, 
Nor once^reflect at whose expense yon shine ; 
New airs, new fashions, new complexions try, ^ 
While paint and affectation can supply. 
For Heav'n and Nature, uniform, and old. 
One settled courae 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 yoo say I bite. 
Ah ! no ; Heav'n knows ' twas &r from my intent ; 
The world's too much a sinner to repent : 
By its example taught, I change my view. 
And iwea(r the fair are right whate'er they da 



HORACE, 
Odb XIIL Book I. Imitated. 

CUM TV LYDtA, TEKPItl, &C 

Wish Celia dwells on Damon's name. 
Insatiate of the pleasing theme. 
Or in detail admires his charms, 
His rosy neck, and waxen arms ; 
O ! then, with fury scarce supprest, 
My big heart labours in my breast ; 
From thouffht to thought across my soul 
Incessant tides of passion roll ; 
My blood alternate chills and glows, 
My wav'ring colour comes and goes ; 
Wliile 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 3'outh elated 1 survey, " 

Presume, with insolence oif air 
To frown, or dictate to my fair; 
Or in the tnadness of delight, 
When to thy arms be wings his flight. 
And having snatch'd a rude embrace. 
Profanes the softness of that face ; 
That face whicb Heav'n itself imbues 
With brightest charms and purest hues. 
Oh ! if my counsels touch thine ear, 
(t/ore's Muasels always are sincere) 



From his ungovem'd transports fly, 

Howe'er bis form may please thine eye; 

For conflagrations, fierce and strong. 

Are fatal still, but never long : 

And he who rouglily treats the shrine. 

Where modest worth aOd beauty shine. 

Forgetful of his former fire. 

Will soon no more these charms admire. 

How bless'd, bow more than bless'd are they 
Whom love retains with equal sway ; 
Whose flame inviolaly bright. 
Still burns in its meridian height; 
Nor jealous fears, nor cold disdain. 
Disturb their peace, nor break their chain : 
But, wheti the hours of life ebb fast, , 
For each in sighs they breathe Uieir last ! 



AN ELEGY TO A LADY, 

wrm bamkoiid's sLBctts. 

O PORM'n at once to feel and to inspire 

The noblest passions of tlie human hreeat. 
Attend the accent of love's fav'rite lyre. 

And let thy soul its moving forc« attest. 
Expressive passion, in each sonnd convey'd. 

Shall all its joy disclose, and all its smart ; 
Reason to modest tenderness persnade. 

Smooth ev'ry thought, and tranquillize the heart. 
False is that wisdom, impotent and vain, [sign'd, 

Which scorns the sphere by Heav'n to men as- 
Which treats love's purest fires with mock disdain, 

And, human, soars above the human kind. 
Silent the Muse of elegy reroaia'd. 

Her plaints untaught by Nature to reocv^ 
Whilst sportive art delusive sorrows feign '<!, [tme^ 

With how much ease distiagmsh'd from the 
Ev'n polish'd Waller aioanis the constant scorn 

Of Saccbarissa, and bid ikte m rain : 
With love his Amoy, not his heart is torn ; , 

We praise his wit, but cannot share his pailt, 
Soch fbi'ce 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 strains implore. 

Let beauty still vouchsafe a-gentle tear. 
What CAB the soul, with passion thrilPd, ^o more ? 

Tlie song must prove the sentiment sincere. 
Gold cunning ne'er, wilii animated stnua. 

To other breasts can warmth unfelt impart t 
We see her labour with indnstrioos pain. 

And mock the turgid impotenoe of art. 



ODB TO AMYSTA. 

By folly led from snare to snare. 
Of bitter grief, suspense, aM care, 

A voluntary prey ; 
With ev'ry flaU'rlng good resigned. 
Once more myself and peace to find. 

From thee 1 fosoe my way. 



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ELECT. 



«ir 



Tct «fth relactant ttep and slow. 
From all that's dear while thus I go. 

Some pity let me claim \ 
Less smart th' expiring martyr feels. 
While racks distend or torturing wheels 

Tear his devoted frame. 
Kor think, like infiants prone to chanfe. 
From sordid views or w^»k revenge, 

Mr resolutions flow : 
Tb God's, lis Nature^ greaft behest, 
Ob every living soul imprest. 

To seek relief firom woe ; 
Nor yet explore, with curious bent. 
What, known, would but thy soul torment. 

And all its hopes betray : 
Wbeo painful truths inmide the mifld, 
£r'n wisd«n wishes to be blind. 

And hates th' officious ray. 
Ye poweia, who cordial and aerane^ 
Protect the dear doeiestia seene. 

To your retreats i fly ; 
At length by yoor's and reason*8 aid, 
I msy to rest this hettft persuade, 

Aod wipe the tearful eye. 
There Nature, o*er the heart svqfirame. 
Shall every tender wiah reclaim. 

Where'er they fondly stray ; 
There friendship's arms my fall sustain. 
When, languid witii excess of pain. 

My fainting nerves give way. 
With cadence soft the flowing stream. 
The favniag'breeze, the lambent gleam, 

Shall join their various power. 
To bill each passioo'S rising tide 
la philosophic ease subside. 

And sooth my pensive hour. 



AN ELEGY. 



Inscribid to i 



.Esa. 



niinn, by ev'ry sympathy endeared. 

Which soul with tout in sacred ties unite; 
The hooT arrives, so long, so justly fear'd, 

firings all its pangs, and s'mks each joy in night 
For nov from Heav'n my nnavailing prayV 

Tos'd devious, mingles with the sportive gale; 
Ko tender arts can move my cruel fair. 

Nor all love's silent eloquence prevail. 
TboQgh from my lips no soimd unmeaning flows, 

TboagLh ra each action fondness is exprest, 
Ko kind return shall terminate my woes. 

Nor heave th' eternal presf^ure from my breast 
Too well the weakness of ray heart I knew; 

Too well leva's pow*r ny soul had felt before^: 
Why did 1 then the pleasiog ill pmsne. 

And tempt the malice of my fate once more ? 
CoBscioiB how few among the f^r sacceed, 

Who boast no merit but a tender heart, . 
Why vas my soul again to chains decreed. 

To anrewarded tears and endless smart ? 
The siren Hope, my tardy pace to cheer. 

In gay presage the shorfning prospect drest, 
Whh ait fallacious bronght the object near, 

AailnUM each rising donbt in faUl rest. 



I saw success, or thought at least I saw, 

Beck'ning with 'smiles to animate my spaed, 
Reason was miite, imprass'd with trembling awe. 

And memory not one precedent could plead. 
How cursM is he who never learnt to fear 

The keenest plagues bis cruel stars portend ! 
Till o'er his head the black'ning clouds appear. 

And Heav'n's collected storms at once descend! 
What further change of fortune can I wait } 

What oonsunroatjon to the last despair ? 
She flies, yet shows no pity for my hU ; 

She sees, yet deigns not in my griefr to share. 
Yet the kind baait, where tender pasaioas te'ign, ' 

Will catch the softness when it first appeart ; 
Explore each symptom of the soflferer^ pain. 

Sigh ail his sig^s, and number all his tetrs* 
This trihifte fhrni humanity is doe; [bestow. 

What then, just Heavens ! what wouM not lova 
Yet though the fair insensible I view. 

For others' bliss I would not change my woe. 

blind to truth, and to reflection blind. 
At length to wisdom and thyself return I 

See Science wait thee with demeanour kind. 

Whose frowu or absence no fond lovers mourn. 
Bounteous and free to all who ask her aid, 

Hef- sacred light anticipates tbeir call. 
Points out the precipice on which they stray^. 

And with maternal care prevents their fall. 
Daughter of God ! whose features all express 

Tb* eternal beauty whence thy being sprung ; 

1 to thy sacred shrine my steps address, [to^guv,- 

And catch each sound from thy Heav'n-prompfead 
O! take me whoUy to thy ted embrace. 

Through ajl my soul th|r radiant beams infuaei 
Thence every cloud of pkAsiog erroor chase ; 

Adjust i er organs, and enlargb her views. 
Hence, ever flxt on virtue and on thee, 

No lower wish shall her attention claim, 
1111, like her sacred parent, pore and free, [eame« 

She gain the native Heav'n from whence the 



TO JOHN M*LAUMiN, Esq, 
(mow toiD rasGHoaif, onx op the sxNAToas or 

TBE COLLXOK OP JUSTICE.) 
WITH TttB AtTROa'S POEMS. 

O THOD ! in whom maturely bright appean 
The flame of genius in the dawn of years ; 
Whom sacred wisdom's awful voice inspires ; 
Whom Heav'n-boru virtue's spotless beauty firaf : 
Still let these glorious aims engage thy view ; 
With straining nerves the arduous path pursue ; 
For this revolve the sacred, ancient page. 
The raptur'd poet, and instructive sage : 
Nor scorn the efforts of a modern Muse, 
Proud to r^ect the gk>ries they diffuse. 
Then, while with conscious joy exuks thy sire >, 
Viewing his son to equal fame aspire. 
When the last echoes ef my n^ortal lay. 
Shall fbebly mix with air and die away ; 
Still shall my life beyond the grave extend. 
And ages know me for M*Laurin*s friend. o 

1 The late celebrated Mr. Colin M'Laurin. 



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BLACKLOCK'S POEMS. 



EXTEMPORE VERSES, 



, «H>KIN AT TUB DUIXl OF A OJmTLBMAir. 

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 praue. 

In lifeless strains let vulgar satire tell, 
That marriage oft is mixt with Heav'n and Hell, 
That conjugal delight is sour'd with spleen. 
And peace and war compose the varied scene ; 
My Muse a truth sublhner 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 fiHrtune sinks or swells. 
One reason governs, and one wish impels ; 
Whose emulation is to love the best ; 
Wlio feel no bliss, but in each other blest ; 
Who know no pleasure but the joys they give, 
Kor cease to love, but when they cease to live : 
If fote these blessmgs in one lot combine, 
Then let th* eternal page record them mme« 



TO TBE REVEREND MR. SPENCE^ 

lATE PBOPESSOa OP POBTBT AT OZPOBD. 
WBITTSM AT DUMPRIBS IV THB TBAB 1759* 

To tomes of dull theology confinM, 
(Eternal opiates of the active mind) 
long lay my spirits, InlPd in deep reposey 
Iticapable alike of verse or prose. 
Unmark'd by thooght or action, every day 
Appeared, and pass'd in apathy away. 

Our friend, the doctor *, view'd with deep ngn^ 
My sad catastrophe, my lifeless state; 
Exptor'd each ancient sage, whose labours tell 
T^e force of powerful herb, or ona^ic spell. 
Physic in vain its boasted influence try'd ; 
My stupor incantaUon's voice defy'd : 
No charm could light my fancy's languid flame, 
No charm but friendship's voice and ^penoe's name. 
So from the cold embraces of the tomb. 
Involved in deep impenetrable gloom, [arise 

Should Heav'n'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 happinte again ! 
AmazM the doctor stood, and lost in thougfit. 
Nor could believe the wonder he had wrought; 
Tillrfir*d at last with sacerdotal pride, . 

••' Tis mine ; — the woric is all my own," 'he cried. 
*' Henceforth some nobler task my might shall 
I mean some lofty mountain to remove, [prove. 
With woods and fountains bid it wing its way 
Thro' yielding air and settle in the sea." 
But recollecting whence the virtue flow'd 
To which returning life and sense I ow'd. 
He snatch'd his pen, and with majestic tone ; 
*' Hence Indolence and Sloth," he cry'd, «* be gone ; 
Me friendship's spirit, Spence's name inspire. 
My hearb is pregnant, and my soul on fire ; 
Thought crowds on thought, my brisk ideas flow. 
And mnch I long to tell, and much to know." 

iRev. Mr.JanMioo. 



Tbos exorcis'd, to Lethe% dismal shore 
Fled Indolence, and sought her baunU of yai«, 
With all her train forsook the poet's breast. 
And left the man completely dispossess'd. 
If to your very name, by bounteous HeaVn, 
Such blest, restoring influence has been giv'n. 
How must your sweet approach, yonr aspect kind, 
Your soul-reviving convene, warm the mind ! 



TO DR. BEATTIB. 

wrra THB Airrttoa*s pobms. 

O, WABM'o by inspiration's brightest fire. 

For whom the Muses string their fav'rite lyre, 
Tbo' with superior genius blest, yet deign 

A kind reception to my humbler strain. 
When florid youth impell'd, and fortune smil'd. 

The vocal art my languid hoars b<^rd : 
Severer studies now my life engage; 

Researches dull, that quench poetic nge ; 
From mom to ev'ning desUn'd to explore 

Th' verbal critic and the scholiast's lore ; 
Alas! what beam of beav'nly ardour shines 

In musty lesdcons and school divines ? 
Yet to the darling object of my heart, 

A short, but pleasing retrospect I ^rt ; 
Revolve the labours of the tuneful quire. 

And what I cannot imitate, admire. 
O could my thoughts with all thy spirit glow ; 

Aa thine harmonious, oouM my accents flow; 
Then, with approving ear, mighf st thou attend. 

Nor m a Blacklock blush to own a friend. 



TO THE REV. DR. OGILVIE. 

I decus, i, nostrum, melioribus uiere fntii. 

VifgiL 

Dbar to the Muses and their tuneful tnuo. 

Whom, long pursu'd, I scarce at last regain ; 

Why should'st thou wonder, if, when IHe declineSi 

His antk|uated lyre thy friend resigns. 

Haply, when youth elate with native force. 

Or emulation fires the generous horse. 

He bounds, he springs, each nerve elastic strains^ 

And if not victor, some distinction gains; 

But should the careless master of the steed. 

Cherish no more his mettle, or bis speed. 

Indignantly he shuns all future strife, 

And wastes in indolent regret his life. 

Such were his eflTorts, such his cold rewaH, 

Whom once thy partial tongue pranoano'd u. bard; 

Excuisive, on the gentle gales of spring. 

He rov'd, whilst fevonr imp'd hts timid wing t 

Exhausted genius now no more inspires. 

But mourns abortive hopes and faded fires ; [grac'd, 

llie short-liv'd wreath, which once bis temples 

Fades at the sickly breath of squeamish taste ; 

Whilst darker days his feinting flames immure 

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 an4 Earth with rich perfume ^ 



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TO A FRIEND. . . . 6EKEAL0GY OP NONSENSE. 



219 



i tbjr desdn'd coune, assert thy hme ; 
Et'd ProTidence shall vindicate thy claim ; 
Et'b Nature's wreck, resouiidmg thro* thy lays, 
fihaJi in it's final ciaah pioclaim thy pcaise. 



TO A FRIESD, 

4» WaOSX HIALTB AMD SUCCESS THS AUTBOE BAD 
HBAtD, AFTll A LOHG ABSBKCB. 

Tbou dearest of friends to my heart ever Imosra, 
Whose ei^oAentB and sufimngs have still been 

Biy OVD^ 

Snce early we met in tusoeptible youth, 
Wbeo gleving for virtne, and toiling for tmth ; 
To God one petitioii, with steady fegard. 
With ardoor in ces sant, my spirit preforr'd, 
Tby life to protract^ and thy UeMiiigs angmeoty 
Nov my wish is oUain'd, and my bosom content 

YoQ ask, by what means 1 my livelihood gain, 
And how my long conflict with fortune mamtaiu? 
The qoettioD ia l^id, yet 1 oaanot tell why, 
Tifi haid for a spirit like mine to reply, 
if a firiend with a friend most he free anfl smoere. 
My vesture is simple and sober my cheer $ 
But tbo* few my resources, and vacant my pane. 
One comfort is left me, things cannot be worsOi 
lis vain to repine, as philosopheiB my, 
So I take what is oaer>d, and live as I may; 
To my wants, still returning, adapt my supplies, 
Aad find in my hope what my fortune denies. 

To the powerful and great had I keenly apply'd. 
Hid I toil'd for their i^leasures, or flatter'd their 
pride, [flam*d. 

In splendour and wealth I peihaps might have 
for learning, for virtue, for ev*ry thing fam'd. 
The gamester, th' informer, the quack, and the 

iraoggler. 
The boUy» the player, the mimic, the juggler, 
TIm dispenser of nbels, the teller of fortunes. 
And others of equal respect and importauce. 
Find high reputation and ample subsistence, 
Whilst craving necessity stands at a distance. 

Bat who could determine, in soundness of brain. 
By priesthood, or poetry, life to sustain ? 
Oar Maker to serve, or our souls to improve. 
Are tasks self-rewarded, and labours of love. 
Such with fauoger and thirst are deservedly paid, 
Tb gkrious to starve by so noble a trade : 
Tis guilt and ambition for priests to pretend 
Their hwe to advance, and their fortune amend ; 
Their fiune and their fortune, by pious mankind, 
Are such trifles esteemed as no mortal should mind. 

Nor less by the worid is the Heav'n-gifted bard. 
In his visions abandoned to find his rei^ard. 
Can sensations of wretchedness ever invade 
That breast which Apollo his temple has made }^ 
On the top 'of Parnassus his hermitage lies ; 
And who can repine, when so near to the skies ? 
for him sweet ambrosia spontaneously grows ; 
for him Ag^nnippe spontaneously flows. 
The* the bev'rage be cool, and ethereal the diet, 
Fine souls, thus regal'd, should be happy and quiet 
Ihtt I, who substantial nutrition require. 
Would rather the Moses should feed than inspire. 
And whilst lofty Pindos my fancy explores, 
ToJimhthe wild fugitive hunger reatorei. 



Yet lest what I mean be obscurely express^. 
No call is unanswered, no wish unredress'd : 
But other resources supplied what was wanting, [ing« 
Lees 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 



TBE GENEALOGY OF NONSENSE. 

Wrni long and carefol scrutiny in vain, 
I seareh'd 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 appeared. 
And not a Muse would answer if she heard; 
Thus I remained 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 assumed her empire over all. 
While on my eyes imperfect slumbers spread 
Their downy wings, and hovered round my head; 
But still internal sense awake remained. 
And still its first solicitude retained ; 
When, lo ! with slow descent, obscurely bright, 
Yet cloth'd in darkness visible, not light, 
A form, high towering to the distant skies. 
In mimic grandeur, stood before my eyes : 
As after storms waves faintly lash the shoie^ 
As hollow winds in rocky caverns roar, [ear, 

Such were the sounds which pierc'd my trembling 
And chill'<i my soul with more than common fear. 

Thus qpoka the pow'r :— *' From yon extended 
void. 
Where Jove's creating hand was ne'er employ'd. 
Where soft with hard, and heavy mix'd with ligh^ 
And heat with cold, maintain eternal fight; 
Where end the realms of order, form, and day; 
Where Night and Chaos hold primeval sway ; 
Their first, their ever-darling ofispring view. 
Who comes tby wonted calmness to renew. 
£re yet the mountains reared 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 buth i date. 
More old than Chance, Necessity, or Fate; 
Ere yet the Muses touch'd the vocal lyre. 
My reverend mother and tumultuous sire 
Beheld my wond'roos birth with vast amaze, 
And Discord's boundless empire rour'd my pmisew. 

" In me, whatever by Nature is disjoio'd. 
All opposite extremes involved you find : 
Bom to retain, by Fate's eternal doom. 
My sire's confiision, 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 tlie wond'rous skill 
To make a myst'ry, more mysterious still ; 



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While those {mnoe bj tcieoce, not their ovn. 
The uiuvenai care, and philotopbic stone. 
Thus, when the leaden pedant courts my M, 
To cover ignorance with learning's shade. 
To swell the folio to a proper sise. 
And throw the clouds of art o'er Nature's eyes. 
My soporific pow'r Ibe saget.own ; 
Hence by the sacred name of Duln^ss known: 
But if mercurial scribblers pant for fiune. 
Those I inspire, and Nonsense is my name. 
Sustained by me, thy Muse first took her flight, 
I circumscribed its limits and its height ; 
By me she sinks, by me she soara along; 
I rule her silence, and I prompt her song." 

My doubts resolv'd, the goddess wing'd her flight 
Bissolv'd in air, and m'uc'd with formless night 
Much more the Muse, reluctant, must suppreo^ 
For all the pow'r of time and fiste confess; 
Too soft her accents, and too weak her prayV, 
¥de time or fate, or cruel po»U to hear. 



ODB, ON MELISSA'S BIRTH^DAY. 

Tb nymphs and swains, whom lore inspires 
With all his pure and faithful fires. 
Hither with jojrfiH steps repair; 
You who his teoderest transports shaie | 
For lo ! in beauty*s gayest pride, 
Summer expands her bosom wifle ; 
The Sun no more in clouds inshriu'd. 
Darts all his glories unconfin'd; 
The featber'd choir from every spray 
Salute Melissa's natal day. 

Hither ye nymphs and shepherdr haste, 
Each with a flowery chaplet grac'd. 
With transport while the shades resound. 
And Nature spreads her charms around ; 
While ev'ry breeze exhales perfumes, 
And Bion his mute pipe resumes ; 
With Bion long disus'd to play. 
Salute Melissa's natal day. 

For Bion long deplor'd his pain 
Thro* woods and devious wilds in vain ; 
At last impeird by deep despair. 
The swain preferr'd his ardent pray'r ; 
His ardent pray'r Melissa heard. 
And every latent sorrow cheer'd, 
His days with social rapture blert, 
And sootfa'd each amik>us care to rest. , 
Tvne, shepherds, tune the festive lay. 
And hail Melisfta's natal day« 

With Nature*s incense to the skie^ 
Let all your fervid wishes rise. 
That Heav'n and Earth may join to shed 
Their choicest blessings on her head; 
That years protracted, as they flow. 
May pleasures more sublime bestow ; 
W^hile by succeeding years surpast, 
The hsppiest still may be the last; 
And thus each circling Snn^ display^ 
A move auspicious natal day. 



BLACKLOCK'S POEMS, 



ODE TO AURORA. 

OK MlLfSSA's buth-oat. 

Of Time and Nature eldot bom, 
Emerge, thou rosy-fingeHd Mom, 
Emerge, in purest dress array'd. 
And chase from Heav'n night's envious shad^* 
That I once more may, pleas'd, survey. 
And hail Melissa's natal day. 

Of Tine and Nature ddest bora» 
Emerge, thou rosy-finger'd Mora : 
In order at the eastern gate 
The Hours to draw thy cbariot wait; 
Whilst Zephyr, oo his balmy wi^i. 
Mild Nature's fragrant tribute brings. 
With odours sweet lo strew thy way. 
And grace the bland, revolving day. 

But as Qkmi lead'st the mdiant ^hsre. 
That gilds its birili, and marks the year. 
And as his stronger glories rise, 
Diffus'd aroaad th* *^pfindfd • V«<y ^ 
Till cloth'd with beams sereody brigfac. 
All Heav'n's vast concave flames with li|^t; 
So, when, thro* lifis's protracted day, 
Melissa still pursues her way, 
Her virtues with thy ^lendour vie. 
Increasing to the mental eye : 
Tho* less conspicnous, not less dear, 
Umg may they Bion's prospect ch^ori 
So shall his heait no more repine, 
Bless'd with her rays, tho* robb'd of thine. 



TO DR. EVAVS. 

DfAx Doctor, as it is most fit, 
Your accusation I admit 
In all its force, nor rack my brain, 
By quirks and subterfuges vain. 
To throw my conduct into shade. 
And thus your just rebuke evade. 
But, since convicted nosr I stand. 
And wait correction from your hand. 
Be merciful as thou art strong. 
Arid recognise the power of song. 
For, while in accents deep and hoarse. 
She breathes contrition and remone. 
The Muse's penitential strain. 
For pardon cannot sue in vain. 
But, let me, with profiMmd respect, 

A sad mistake of your's correct. 
When once th' Aonian maids discover 

Some favour for a youthful lover. 

You thinlc their passion still as keen 

For him at sixty as sixteen. 

Alas the sex you little know. 

Then- ruhng passion is a beau. 

The wrinkl'd brow, th' extJfiguiA'd eye» 

Ftom female hearts ne'er gain a sigh. 

The brilliant glance, the cheek vermil, 

Th' elastic nerve, th' enchanting smtle, 

lliese, only the«e, can hearts confine 

Of ladies human, or divine. 

No mind, immortal tho' it be, 

Fh>m lifle's vicissitudes is free. 

The man who labours to acquit 

Of imperfection- human wit, 



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TO MILDALZEL. . • • TO DIUDOWNMAN. 



»1 



Win 6Dd te imdartahM a ttik 

That pTOfM wbat bit oppooeota aik | 

ind fed, to hit etcrwl oott» 

Hit ovo attemf^ n/ht9 km boMt 

Fac*d by experience ami leanliaB, 

1 make thU humble dedantioQ : 

For aboold my pride my woidf lestrain, 

TbeK lays woald sbov the ftuct too pla'm. 

Qoih'd in a lioo'a akin, the am 

At ftnt might for a Ikm pern s 

But when the stupid creatofe bray'd, 

Hii laal aelf be aoon betrey'd, 

Aad cfery itick and e^ery rtone 

Were otM, to sbov bun he was knowib 

Tbus batter'd by sarcastic sneeft, 

I ihot mj mouth and bide my eais; 

Bleis'd, tf nnhuit 1 may elude 

Tht dbserfatktt of the orowd. 

Yet cpite of all the ills that prey 

Od ebbing life, from day to day. 

It vann'd my veins wKb youthful fiK» 

And raJsM my beut a cubit higher. 

To liear your own kind wonk expsem 

Yoor oompetitioo and success. 

So, vben portentous symptoms threat 

Your patients with hnpending fiite. 

At your approach may they recede^ 

And lickneas lift its drooping bead ; 

While beahk and joy your nod ob^. 

And fly where'er you point their way. 

Oae great achievement still veoMiniy 

(te triumph, worthy of your pains ; 

Could yon the thefts of Tmie reslote» 

And make me wbat I was of yore. 

Is ipite of Fortune's utmost spleen, 

Which bards oft fsel to intervene, 

1 might, pertiaps, as friend with friend. 

At Shrewsbury some evenings spend ; 

Ibere, in abuse th«t meant no baim, 

Aaeit the soul of huoMur warm ; 

Aad laugh at those whose lives provoke 

Tbe satire we eAise in joke. 

And, now, perhaps, you wish to know, 

WiUi your old friencb, how matters go; 

What state of health they still ei^y 

Aad how tbeir various hours employ ? 

Bat this detail more glibly flows 

In-easy style and bumble prose ; 

And, with mere patience, will be beaid^ 

To my Melisaa when traosfierr'd. 

If faults acknowledged be forgiven, 

Aad all our former odds made even. 

Pray write me soon, to let me see 

Hoe much superior yon can be 

To doctors in divinity. 

Meanwhile, believe me still sincere, 

Wbatever guise my conduct wear. 

And ftill with friendship, no less fervent 

Your most obedient, bnmble servant 



TO MR.DALZEL, 
sftortisoa oF.emc in thb vatvndhr < 



Ti fairy fields, where youthful fancy stray'd^ 
Ye bmdscapes vested in eternal gioen. 

Cease my reluctant absence to upbraid ; 
i«di joj 1 tees, when you no more are seen. 



The r^itur'd bent, th' enUniwMtic eye. 

The bright conception darting through the mind. 
From my remotest hopes bow for they fly, 
' And leave a gloomy solitude behind } 
Ethereal people of each gkiwing scene. 

Which meditation pictured in my sigh^ 
Of ever beauteous and celestial mien : 

Why smk 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 I 
To me a frided form e'en Nature wean ; 

Its vivid cotours every flow'r resigns. 
The blasted lawns no tint of verdure cheers. 

Shorn of his beams the Sun more fointly sbiaes. 
Age, bood-wtnk'd Age, exterminates the whole. 

She o'er the prospect night aad horrour sprewdi ; 
Her endless whiter intercepts the soul. 

From IbBpid fbantains and enchanted meads. 
O come, Dal2e1 <, whose comprehensive view, 

Whate*er the Muse exhibits, can survey. 
The flying phantom teach roe to pursue. 

Direct my course, and animate my lay. 
Yet from th' ungrateful bosom of the tomb 

Should Jason's magic wife emerge once OMNre, 
Nor thou, nor she, my genius could relume ; 

•Nor thou, nor she, the flame of youth veftov^ 



TO DR. DOWNMAN, 

M tOVDON. 

To tbf fond Muse, who rings of rural joyi^ 
Involved in politics, aad smoke and noise. 
Her Scotian sister gratulation sends, 
Pleas'd that her taste, not on her place depends. 
For oft contagions in the city brsexe. 
Hovering vmseen, unfolt, the foncy seise : 
Surrounding dijects catch the roving eye. 
And tastes with rituatibns oft comply. 
There party-passion wears the form of truth. 
Pleasure in virtue's mask seduces youth, 
Still handing round the sweet Circean bowl, 
To warp the judgment, and pervert the souL 
Ye early plans, aad wishes, then adfau. 
We seek not what is foir, hot wbat is new ; 
Each former prepossessioo leaves the hearty 
And Nature yields to meretricbus art. 

X Oh ! if in Heav'n some chosen cune remain. 
Nor thunders roll, nor lightnings flash in 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 indignuant rkge, she sought the skies. 
Th' ingenooi|s wish, tbst in one wide emhraeo 
Cla^'d Nature's frame, and glow'd A» all ber vect« ' 
Fair HospiUlity, in blessiog blest. 
Primeval Candor, of translucent breast. 
With horrour sbydderieg at the banefol rigkt, 
Retlr*d, the vow'd companinns of her flight : 

1 This genttemah delivered a course of oritksal • 
lectures on poetry, which did honour to the semi-*' 
nary in whicb ha i» enfage^a wd tQ thf 
where he fives. 



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S3il 



fiUCKLOCE'S VOSMi. 



Then froiv b«r botooi Hell disgorg'd her tram» 
The lust of pleasure, and the thint of gain, 
Then Pride luxurious rear'd her crest on high. 
Deceit then fbrg'd the name, and oogg'd the die. 
Then lawless tyrants from the throue decreed 
Virtue to toil, and Innooence to bleed. 
In heart a tiger, tho' in looks a child. 
Assassination stabb'd his friend, and smiN; 
While Perjury, with unavcrted eye. 
Invoked the god of truth, to seal a lie. 

O conscious Peace ! to few indulg'd by fate. 
When shall I find once more thy dear retreat } 
When sl^all my steps the guiltless scenes explore^ 
Where Virtue's smiles the age of gold restore } 
Where Charity to all her arms extends. 
And as she numbers faces, numbers friends ? 
Where unaffected Sympathy appears 
In cordial smiles, or undissembled tears } 
Where Innocence and Mirth, the farmer's wealth. 
Walk hand and hand with Exercise and Health } 
Kor when the setting Sun withdraws his ray. 
And labour closes with the closing day. 
Would I, wiih haughty insolence, avoid 
The scenes where simple Nature is enjoy'd ; 
But pleas'd, in JTrolic, or discourse engage 
With sportive youth, or hospitable age, 
Exert my telents to amuse the throng 
In wond'rous legend, or m rural song. 

Thus, by no wish for alteratioa seiz'd. 
My neighbours pleasing, with my neij^hboors pleased. 
Exempt from each excess of bliss or woe. 
My setting hours should untfonnly flow, 
Tdl Nature to the dust these limbs consigned, 
lieaving a short, but well-eani'd fame behind. 

For thee, whom Nature and the Muse inspire 
With taste refin'd, and elegant desire, 
His thine, wherever thou mov'st, thy bliss to find, 
Prawn from the native treasures of thy mind | 
To brighten life with love or friendship's ray. 
Or through the Muse's land in raptnres stray. 
Oh ! may thy soul her favMte objects gain. 
And not a wish aspire to Heav'n in vain ! 
Full on thy latest hours may genhis shine, 
And each dome«tic happiness he thme I 



TO THE SAME. 

Tbs, *tjs resolvM, in Natore's spite, 
Kay more, resolv'd in rhyme to write : 
Tho' to my chamber's walls confin'd 
By beating rains, and roaring wind, 
Tho' km'ring, as the wintry sky, 
Involv'd in spleen my spirits lie, 
Tho' cold, as hyperborean snows, 
Ko Ibeble ray of genius glows. 
To friendship tribute let me pay. 
And gratitude's behests obey. 

Whilst man in this precarious ttatiOD 
Of struggle and of fluctuation, 
Protracts his being, is it strange 
That humour, genius, wit should change ? 
The mhid which most of force inherits. 
Must feel vicissitude of spirits ; 
And happiest they, who, least deprest. 
Of life's bad bargain make the best. 
Thus, thc>' my song be can't conmiend, 
IV attempt wiU plaase my genUe friend; 



For he of life's uncertain rdunct 
The cloudy and serene hath found. 

Cheermg, as summer's balmy sbowMtl^ 
To thirsty herbs and languid flowers. 
Your late epistle reach'd my ear. 
And fiU'd my heart with joy smcere. 
Before my eyes in prospect plain 
Appear'd the consecrated fime. 
Where Friendship's holy present 
And grief disarms, and Miss refines. 
Long may the beauteous fabric rise. 
Unite all hearts and charm all eyes^ 
Above contingency and time. 
Stable as Earth, as Heav'n sublime f 
And while its more than solar light 
Thro' Nature*s frame flows pierchig bright. 
May we thro' life's ambiguons maze 
Imbibe its most auspicious rays ; 
View unimpair'd its sweet eidstenee. 
By length of years, or local dirtance ; 
And while our hearts revolve the past. 
Still feel its warmest moments last ! 
With each kind wish which ftiendsfaip^knowiy 
For you Melisca's bosom glows. 
Her heart capacious and sincere, 
M'here those onoe priz'd must still be dear, 
Tho' long of silence she complains. 
For Thespia all her love retains. 

Now, whether prose your fancy please^ 
The style of elegance and ease, • 
Or whether strams so debonair, 
As might frodi anguish charm despair. 
To us at least a pHtance deal. 
Who long to see year hand and seal. 



TO MELISSA. 

WRITTXV IN THE YBAX 1790^* 

Dbja, welcome sharer of my breast. 
Of friends the kindest bxA the best. 
What numbers shall 'the Muse employ. 
To speak my gratitude aiid joy ? 
Twice ten times has the circling yescr. 
And oftener, finish'd its career, 
Sinoe first in Hymen's sacred bands, 
With mingl'd hearts we join'd our bandL 

Auspicious hour \ from whence I date 
The brightest colours of my fhte ; 
From whence feKcity alone. 
To my dejected heart was known. 
For then, my days from woe to screeny 
Thy watchful tenderness was seen ; 
Nor did iu kind attentions miss 
To heighten and improve my bliss. 

Oft have I felt its pTeasing power 
Delude the solitary hour; 
Oft has it charm'd the cruel smart. 
When pain and anguish rackM my heartr 
Thus may our days which yet remain. 
Be free fhrni bitterness and pain ! 
So limpid streamt still purer grow. 
For ever brigbt'ning as they flow. 
When Death must come, for come it will. 
And I Heaven's purposes- fhlfll. 
When heart with heart, and soul with sold 
Blending, I teach life's utm6st goal. 



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COMPLIMENTARY VERSES. 



f2$ 



WbnNatiii«>iflebfcthtofruDe ghaU pay. 
And earth receive my mortal clay ; 
Not anooocern'd ihalt thoo behold 
My ashei mingling with the moald | 
Botdrop a tear and beave a sigh. 
Yet hope to meet me in the iky; 
When, life's contiooal niff>rings c^tt. 
We joyful meet, to part no more. 



ON DR. BLACKLOCK^S BIRTH-DATK 

BY MR& BLACKLOGE. 

Pionnoutday! to me for ever dear ; 
Oh ! may'it thou Mill return from year to year» 
ieplete with choiceat ble«ingB Heav'n can Mod, 
And gnaid from ev'ry harm my deaiert friend. . 
May we togediev tread lifers Tarious maze, 
Ib stiictest virtue, and in grateful praiie 
To thee, kind Providence, who hast ordain^ 
One for the otiier sympathetic friend. 
And when life's cnrvpnt in our vems growa oold. 
Let each the other to their breast enfold 
Their other dearer self; with age opprest» 
lliea, gracxNis God, receive us both to rest: 



DR. DOWJfMAN TO MJtS. BLACKLOCK. 
eccAsuwsp BT A corr or vusis sbb AOfDRiisBD 

TO BEa HOSSAim*. 



Ai round Famassos on a day 
MelisBa idly chanc'd to stray. 
She gatiier'd from its native bed. 
As there it grew, a rose-bud red. 
Mean .time Galliop^ came by, 
And Hymea, with obsequious eye, 

> TbeM Yenea^ the only Terses ever attenqited 
hy Mrai Blacklock, are t6 be considered, not as a 
specimen of apoetical genius, which she never pre- 
tended to pociess, but as an expression of her af- 
fectkm for her hoalMiid, and her yeneration for that 
amieble diqiosition, and that divine gift of poetry, 
with whicfi he was so eminently blessed. JEditor^ 

* See the preceding. 



Watching her looks, gallaofly 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 dare. 

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 wifiB." 

At which she smiliog milder grew, 

For him of yore liiU well she knew. 

Then Hymen thus address'd the dame ; 

" She pardons, tho' she still most blaiifta. v 

But take the rose-bud in your hand. 

And say, you bring, at my command^ 

That present from PamaMus* grove, 

A grateful flower of married k^e." 



DR. DOWVMAN TO DR. BLACKLOCK. 

Edika's walls can Fancy se^ 
And not, my Blacklock, think on thee }- 
Ere I that gentle name forget. 
This flesh most pay great Nature's debt 
Hail ! worthitet of the sons of men, . 
Not that the Muses held thy pen. 
And placM before thy mental sight 
Each hue of intellectual light : 
But that a generous soul is thine. 
Richer by for than Plutus' mine ; 
With utmost niceness fram'd to feel 
Another's woe, another's weal ; 
Where friendship heap'd up all her stote^ 
That glorious treasure of the poor. 
To grovelling vanity unknown. 
Not to be purchased by a throne ; 
Where patience, resignation's child^ 
Misfortune of her power beguiPd ; 
Where love her purple cestos bound. 
Where a retirement virtue found. 
Contentment a perpetual treat. 
And honour a delightful seat; 
Religion could with pleasure fimst. 
And met no bigot, tho^ a priait^ 



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THE 

POEMS 



OP 



RICHARD OWm CAMBRIDGR 



V(M.xvin»- 



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THE 



LIFE OF RICHARD OWEN CAMBRIDGE, 

BY MR. CHALMERS. 



Richard Cambridge! was bom in London, Feb. 14, 1717* of ancestors be- 
loDgiDg to the county of Gloucester. His father, who was a younger brother, had bee« 
bred to business ba a Turkey merchant, and died in London not long after the birth 
of his son* the care of whom then devolved <m his mother and his maternal unde 
Thomas Owen, esq. who ado[>ted him as his future representative. He was sent to 
Eton school, where quickness of parts supplied the place of diligence, and although he 
was averse to the routine of stated tasks, he stored his mind with classical knowledge, 
and amused it by an eager perusal of works addressed to the imagination. He be- 
cune early attached to the 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 eiieniplified at his seat ia 
Gloucestershire, and that at Twickenham. 

In 1734, he entered as a gentleman commoner of St. John's College, Oxford, and, 
without wishing to be thought a laborious scholar, omitted no opportunity of improv- 
ing his mind in such studies as were suitable to his age and future prospects. His first; 
or one of hb first poetical efiiisions was on the Marriage of the Prince of Wales, whick 
was published with the other verses composed at Oxford on the same occasion. In 
1737* he became a member of Lincoln's Inn, where be found many men of wit and 
congenial habits, but as he had formerly declined taking a degree at Oxfor(», he had now 
as little inclination to punue the steps that lead to the bar, and in I741,ui his twenty- 
fcorth year, he married Miss Trenchard, the second daughter of George Trenchard, 
eiq. of WoolvertoB in Dorsetshire, a lady who contributed to his happiness for up- 
wards of half a centuiy, and by whom he had a family equally amiable and afiection- 
ate. She died Sept. 5, 1S06, having survived her husband four years. 

He now settled at his family seat of Whitminster iu Gloucestershire, for seven or 
eight years, where his life, though easy and independent, was never idle or useless. 
Wbile he continued to cultivate polite literature, his more active hours were employed 
ia b^ghtening the beauties of the scenery around his seat ; for this purpose he made 
the little river Stroud navigable for some distance, and not only constructed boats for 



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228 LIFE OF CAMBRIDGE. 

pleasure or carriage, but introduced some ingenious improvements ni that btanch 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 otlier distinguished visitors, who were delighted with the elegance of his taste, 
and the novelty and utility of his various plans. F04 the sports of the field he bad 
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 
ID -the river, was a favourite mark,' which he seldom missed." As he ever 
endeavoured to unite knowledge with amusement, he studied the history of archery, 
and became a connoisseur in its weapons as used by modem and ancient nations. The 
collection he formed while this pursuit occupied his attention, he afterwards sent to 
sir Ashton Lever's museum. 

During his residence at Whitminster, he wrote his most celebrated poem, The 
Scribleriad. The design be unparted 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 required, and the topics which he introduced had evidently been the 
result of a course of multifarious reading. But such was his diflSdence in his own 
powers, or in the sincerity of his friends who praised his labours, that he laid his 
poem aside for many years after it was completed, until he could ascertain, by their 
impatience, that they consulted his reputation in advising him to publish it 

In consequence of the death of his uncle (in 1748} to whom he was heir, 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 hill. 
He quitted at the same time his seat in Gloucesterslnre, and with it all desire of farther 
change, for he resided at Twickenham during the remainder of his very long life. 
How mudi he unproved this villaj cannot now be remembered by many : two gene- 
rations 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 fitted 
to the highest company, yet although his circle was extensive, he soon learned to 
select his associates, and vbiting became a pleasing relief, instead of a perpetual inter- 
ruption. 

Tlie same* year in which he commenced his establishment at Twickenham, he 
became known to the public, as the author of the Scribleriad, which was published in 
175U Some of his lesser poems succeeded. The Dialogue between a Member of 
Parliament and his Servant, in 1752; The Intruder, in 1754; and The Fakeer, in 1756. 
About the same time he api^eared as a writer in The World, to which ne contributed 
twenty-one papers, which are unquestionably among the best in that collection. Lord 
Chesterfield, who knew and respected him, drew the followmg character in one of his 
own excellent papers. 

** Can't? brigius driuks 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 himself that he runs, but to his acquaintance, a synonimous term for his 



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UFH OF CAMBRIDGE. SSp 

• * 

fiiends. Internally safe he seeks no sanctuary from himself, no intoxication for his 
mind. . His penetration makes him discover and divert himself with the foUies of 
mankind, wliich his wit enables him to expose with the truest ridicule, though always 
Without personal oflfence. Cheerful abroad because happy at home, and tjius happy 
because virtuous '." ^ 

On the commencement of the war with France m 1756, in the events of which he 
appears to have taken a more lively interest than could have been expected from a 
nan 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 publjc mind in the 
nature and importance of that acquisition. At first he intended that this work should 
be on a very large sc^le, but as recent events demanded such information as could be 
immediately procured, and promised to be useful, he produced hb History of the 
War upon the Coast of Coromandel, which was published in 1761. He then re- 
sumed his original design, and obtained permission from the East India Company to 
inspect such of their papers as might be requisite* " He had also a proiuise of Mr. 
Orme'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. 
Cambridge considered that liis own work would now be in a great measure superfluous, 
and therefore relmquished the further prosecution of his plan ^/' What he had pob- 
bbed, however, was considered as an important memoir of the period it embraced, 
and as a fiiir 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 
delighted. It led him also to an intimate acquaintance with lord Clive, general 
Camac, Mr. Scrafton, mi^or Pearson, Mr. Varelst, general Caliaud, Mr. Hastings, 
and others, who had gained distinguished reputation by their services in the East 

Mr. Cambridge survived the publication of this work above forty years, but appeared 
no more before the public as an author. Many of the smaller pieces now added to 
hb works, were written as amusements for hb friends, and circulated only in private. 
The k»g remainder of hb life passed In the enjoyment of all that elegant and polished 
society could yield. Most, of the friendships of hb youth were those of hb 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 with Bryant, Gray, West, 
Walpole, Dr. Barnard, and Dr. Cooke; at Lincoln's Inn, he found Mr. Hepiy 
Balhurst, afterwards lord chancellor, the hpn. Charles Yorke, Mr. Wray, and Mr. 
Edwards. ' To these he afterwards added lord Anson, Dr. Atwell, bishop Benson, sir 
Cbaries Williams, Mr. Henry Fox, Mr. William Whitehead, Villiers lord Clarendon, 
kml Granville, lord Lyttelton, Mr. GrenviUe, lord Chesterfield, Mr. Pitt, lord Bath, 
k)nl Egremont, Soame Jenyns, lord Hardwicke, admiral Boscawen, lord Barrington, 
James Harris, Andrew Stone, bbliop Egerton, lord Camelford* Welbore Ellis, 
lord North, Garrick, Dr. Johnson, Dr. Porteus, now bbhop of London, and the 

" ' Tbis character stands at the dose of a paper written to expose the folly and iU effects of hanl 
diiakinf : and lord Chesterfield names my (kther, who was a water drinker, as a living example of one, 
who dSA not leqniie the ezhilirating aid of wine to enliven his wit or increase his vivacity.'^ Life of 
Mr. Cambridge, by his Son, pitted to his woikii p..44. C 

* tife, obi iopnu 



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250 LIFE OF CAMBRIDGE. 

illustrious navigators Byron, Wallts, Carteret, Pfaipps, Cook, and VaooottTer. In the 
company of these, some of whom were long his Deighl»ours it Twu^enham, he de- 
lighted to increase his knowledge by an interchange of sentiments on topics of Uten- 
ture and common life. His conversation was enriched by various reading, and embel- 
lished by wit of the most delicate and junobtrusive kind. His temper made him unher- 
sally beloved. It was uniformly cheerfiil, mild, and lienevolentr 

The conclusion of his life is thus related by his biographer. ** He was considenUj 
advanced in his eighty*third year before he was sensible, to any considerable 
degree, of the* infirmities of age : but a difficulty of hearing, which had for scmie tine 
gradually increased, now rendered conversation troublesome and frequently dkappoint- 
ing to him. Against this evil, his books, for which hb relish was not abated, had 
hitherto furnished an easy and acceptable resource ; but, unfortunately, his sight aho 
became so imperfect, that there were few books he could read with comfort to hkn- 
self. His general health, however, remamed the same, and his natural good spirito and 
cheerfulness of temper experienced no alteration. Having still the free use of hb 
limbs, he continued to take his usual exercise, and to follow his customary habits of 
life, accepting of such amusement as conversation would afford, from those fiieods 
who had the kindness to adapt their voices to his prevailing infirmity: and that he still 
retained a lively concern in all those great and interestmg events which were then 
takuig place in Europe, may be seen in some of his latest productions. But as bis 
deafness increased, he felt himself grow daily more unfit for the society of any but his 
own family, into whose care and protection he resigned hinfself with the most affec- 
tionate and endearing confidence, receiving those attentions which it was the first 
pleasure of his children to pay hbn, not as a debt due to a fond and mdulgent parent, 
but as a free and voluntary tribute of their afiection. In the contemplatioB of these 
tokens of esteem and love, he seemed to experience a constant and unabatiBg plea- 
sure, which supplied, m no small degree, the want of other interesting ideas. 

** It is well known, that among the many painful and humiliating effects thai attend 
the decline of life, and follow from a parthil decay oi^ the mental powers, we have 
often to lament the change it produces in the heart and aff^ons: but from every 
consequence of this sort, my father was most happily exempt. Thb I allow myself to 
say upon the authority of the medical gentleman ^ of considerable emmenoe, by whose 
skill and friendly attentions he was assisted through the progresnve stages of his slow 
decline ; and who has repeatedly assured me, that, in the whole course of his exten- 
sive practice, he had never seen a similar instance of equanhnity and undeviatiqg 
sweetness of temper. 

'** During this gradual increase of feebleness, and with the discouraging prospect of 
still greater suffsriug, which he saw before him, his exempkury patience and constant 
care to spare the feelings of his family were eminently conspicuous : nor did the dis- 
tressing infirmities, inseparably attendant on- extreme debility, ever produce a murmur 
of complaint, or even a hasty or unguarded expression* It is somewhat singular, and 
may be regarded as a proof of an unusually strong frame, that no symptom of disease 
XwAl place : all the organs of life continued to execute their le^ective functions, until 
nature, l>euig wholly exhausted, he expired without a sigh, oil \b» 17th of Scfitember, 
1803, leaving a widow, two sons, and a daughter/' 

* " David Duvdaas, esq. of Richmond.* 

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Uro OF CAMBSIDfiEi SSt 

RqipMn fiani tlieiiliole of fab soii'jb v«ry interasliog namtiv^ that fcw men have 
cBJo^ a life of the nune dunlion so little mtenmpled by vexation or calamity. His 
fertaney if not reialifely great, was lendered ample by judidons management, and as 
be had been highly fiivouied by Providenca in his person and in hu fiunily, he fek the 
inpoftaaoe of those blessingi with the gratitude of a Christian. Such idermation as 
the Mknring, so honowable lo the subject of il, and to him who idates it, ought not 
tobcsoppsessed* 

<* At an eariy age he alfeentivdy examined the evidences of Christianity, and was 
fully satisfied of its truth. Hb was, in the truest sense, the religion of the heart; and 
he always Mt that a conatant conformity to itt precepts was the strongest and best 
proof he coold give of the sfaicerity of his ftith. Of iU prescribed forms and exterior 
dades, he was no less a strict observer : whatever were hb engagement^ he constantly 
psned hb Sundays at home with hb fiunily, at the head of whom he never failed to 
altaid the pnUic service of the day, until prevented by a bodily infirmity, for some 
yesn beibie hb death ; but he still contmued hb practice of reading prayers to them 
efciy eveamg: a ua^^e of more than soly years: these were taken from our litnrgy, 
ef which he was a great admirer. 

^ When no longer aUe to partake of the eom muni on at church, he continued to 
icceift it at home, on the festivak and other suitable occasions, to the btest period, 
aad hb naanner of jomiag m thb service, fiunished an edifying example of the hnppy 
jaSaence of a mind void of offence towards Gkkl and man« 

** Hb devotional exevcbes wese always expressed in so solemn a manner, and with 
nch unaflRected piety, as showed that Us lips spoke the language of hb heart; but 
hb hnpiessive tone of voice, when offering prqr«r and thanksgiving, marked that to be 
the biancb of worship most suited to hb ftdii^: and m conformity with thb senti- 
ment, he frequently remarked, that ' in our petitkms we are ImMe to be mbled, botfc 
as to dieir object and motive; but in expressing our thanksgivings to the Deity, we 
am never err, the least ftvoured among us havmg received sufficient tokens of the 
bounty of Providence, to excite emotk>ns of the sinoerest gratitude/ 

^ Thb principle of piety led him abo to bear afflfctions in the most exemplary man- 
aer. Whatever triab or deprivatnm he experienced through life, he always met 
widi fartitade, and hb demeanour under the losses whkh he was ordained to suffer 
m hb own fiunily, was such, that those only who saw him near, and knew how sacred 
he hdd the doty of submisskm to the Divine Will, and the self conunand thb pro- 
daced, eoidd form any idea how poignantly they were fdf— 

Of hb literary character, hb son has formed a just estnnate, when be says, that he 
b to be rq^arded rather as an elegant than a profound scholar. Yet where he chose 
Id apply, hb knowledge was far from being superficial, and if he had not at an early 
period of life bidulged the prospect of fillmg the statkm of a retired country gentle- 
am, it b probable that he might have made a distmgoished figure in any of the 
ksmed professions. It b certain that the ablest works on every subject have been 
produced, with very few exceptions, by men who have been scholars by profession, to 
whom repoUtion was neoessary as well as ornamental, and who could not expect to 
rise but m proportion to the abilities they discovered. Mr. Cambridge, wiAout being 
\ to the value of fanse* had yet none of the wont perib <rf authorshq> to 



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93t UFE OF CAMBRIDGE. 

encottnter. As a writer h6 was better knowo to the worid^ bat he could not bate 
been more highly respeeted by his friends. . . , 

< About, a year after his death his son, the rev. George Owen Cambridge, poblishcA 
a splendid edition of all hb works (except bb History of the War) to which he pre- 
fixed an account of his Life and Writings. To thb very interesting narrative, the 
present sketch is indebted for all that b valuable in it ; but from what b here borrow^ 
the reader can have but a feeble conception of a composition which does so much 
honoiir to the moral and literary reputation of the father, and to the filial piely and 
chastened affection of the son. ... 

The Scribleriad, which entitles Mr. Cambridge to a place an thb coilectiois. is out 
ef those poems that, with great merits, yet make their way very slowly m the world. 
It was received' so coolly, on the publication of the first two parts, that he fimnd it ne- 
cessary to write a preface to the second and complete edition, explaining hb design. 
' He bad some reason to apprehend that it had i^een mbtaken, and that the poem 
was in danger of being negleeted. In thb preface, he lays down certain rules for the 
mock heroic, by which, if hb own production be tried, it must be confessed he has 
executed all that he intended, with spirit and taste. ^ As an imitator of the true 
iieroic, he is in general ^thfiil, and hb parodies on the andfento show that he had 
.studied their writings with somewhat different froas the ardour of an admiitr of 
poetry^ or the acutrness of a critical lingubt. But tt may be doubted whether the 
rules he wishes to establbh are sufficiently comprehensive, whether he has not been 
too faithful to his modeb, and whether a greater and more ori^nal portion of the 
burlesque would not have conferred more popularity on hb performance. 

His preference of Don Quixote, as a true mock heroic, is less a natter of dbputc. 
.In all the attributes of that species oi composftioa, it b unquestionably superior to any 
attempt ever nlade, and probably will ever remam without a rival, for wliat subject 
can the wit of man devise so happily adapted to the intention of the writer 1 Ita great 
excellence, too, appears from its continuing to please every class of readers, although 
the folly ridiculed no longer exbts, and can with some difficulty be supposed to have 
ever exbted. But Cervantes b in nothing so superior, as in the delineation -of hb 
hero, who throughout the wh6le narrative creates a powerful interest in hb' fiiyt>ur, 
and who excites ridicule and compassion in sudi nice proportions as never to be un- 
deserving of sympathy, or overpowered by contempt. 

Mr. Cambridge. iH{as not so fbrtunate in a hero. He was content to take up Scrik* 
lerus, where Pope and Swift, or rather Arbuthnot, left bun; a motley, ideal beings 
without an exemplar, combining, in one indiridual, all that b found ridiculous in for- 
gotten volumes, or among tlie pretenders to science and the believers of absurdities. 
Mr. Cambridge's hero, therefore, without any qualities to secure our esteem, b an 
. antiquary, a pedant, aa alchymbt, and what seldom b found among such cbaracteis, 
•a poet. . In conducting him through a series of adventures, upon the plan sketched 
by the triumvirate above mentioned, it b witJi great difficulty that he b able to avoid 
the errour they fell into, either of inventing nonsense for the sake of laughing at it, or 
of glancing their ridicule at the enthusiasm of useful research, and the ardour of real 
science, and justifiable curiosity. . . 
False science, like every thing ebe that b false, may be a legitimate otyect of ridi- 



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UFE OF CAMBRIDGE. S35 

cole, bat to distingiiiah true from fi&Ue science is oot the business of a single decision, 
but the lesoit of the experience of ages. By the illiterate all remarkable improvements 
sie at once condemned as impossible and therefore, absurd. By the learned all remark^ 
able improvements are effected by supposing them possible. There is a speculation in 
Kience as well as in commerce, and he who has hazarded much and lost much, does 
aot thereby prove that his design was fundamentally wrong. 

Mr. Cambridge had too much sense and too much leammg to follow the steps of 
his predecessors m the history of Scriblerus ; but yet it may be presumed that his poem 
was unsuccessful with the public at large, either from its making sport of what had 
ceased to engage the attention of philosophers, or from its treating popular super- 
•tilions and historical credulity in a vein of ridicule, too delicate for common readers. 

The composition of the Scribleriad b in general so regular, spirited and poetical^ 
that we cannot but wish the author had chosen a subject of more permanent interest. 
Many striking passages may be pointed out to justify this wish, and perhaps there are 
fcw descripticHis so happily imagined as the appiwudi of the 'army of rebusses and 
acrostics. The versifi<»tion is elegant, and the epithets chosen with smgular propriety. 
Hie events, although without much connexion, M add something to the charaoter of 
the hero ; and the conversations most gravely ironical, while they remind us of the 
serious tfks, are never unnecessarily protracted.. 

It is to be regretted, and perhaps it may be mentioned as another hindrance to the 
populariiy of the Scribleriad, that the author determmed to avoid moral reflections, — 
reflections which he could have easily fiirmshed. His periodical papers exhibit a 
happy union of wit and sentiment, and few men were better acquainted with local 
■uumersy aod the humours and whhns of mterest and passion. If such reflections 
arise naturally from the subject, they are surely not only useful, but lead to many of 
tbt roost striking beauties of imagery. No zealous admirer of the flights of imagina- 
tion is unwilling to be sometunes relieved by those reflections which recal his judg- 
inent In Ihe ardour of youth, poets are too apt to undervalue reason, but in ad- 
vanced age they more readily admit its alliance with genius. Let it also be remem- 
bered how much Hudibras, the first of all English mock heroics, owes to the fre- 
quency of those reflexions and maxims, which, having become proverbial, serve to 
perpetuate the fame of their author.— The Scribleriad, however, wiU ever be considered 
by impartial judges, with whom popularity is not an indispensable qualificati<Hi, as a 
poem that does honour to the taste and imagmation of Mr. Cambridge^ and as deserv- 
ing a place with the most favourite attempts of the satirical muse. 

Of the lesser pieces in this collection, the Dialogue between a Member of Parlia- 
ment and hb Servant, The Fakeer, and The Intruder are to be distinguished for 
sprightliness of wit, and felicity of diction. Public degeneracy, impertinence, and 
soperstitious cunning are no where more elegantly satirized. ^ These have been re- 
putedly printed in Dodsle/s and other collections. His other occasional pieces dis- 
cover the same observation of human conduct and manners, keen and shrewd, ^d 
upressed in easy and polished veoe. 



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POEMS 



OF 



RICHARD OWEN CAMBRIDGE. 



on VBI WAM1AOI <»t 

JEIS ROYAL m^EHBSi 
FREDERIC PRINCE OF WALES s 

PUBLISIUD AMOMO 

TH£ OXFORD CONGRATULATORY VESSJES, 

1736. 



PAffT hf ttie bttikt of Itb nlfer-ttreamVI, 

-I- In tbow tweet Talet (wbo knows not tliOM 

iweetvnitt?) 
Fran wbenoe are kenn'd OkooWi*! tovr^nfiu'-ftim'd. 
Whilom t walk'd to catch tlie noon-tide gales : 
Tbe mormYing stream, so ic«ntly gliding on. 
And awful solitude, did thought hupnoj ' 
VenelesB mysalf I conn'd not bUthsom song ; 
No lute had I, nor harp, nor tunefol lyre; 
Thongfatftil, adown I laid me by the stream. 
That thought broogfat with it sleep, sleep brought 
withita ' 



Tbe scene erst fish* to Mrer still did yield, 
Socb scenes did never waking eye behold ; 
Nor Sana was so gay, nor Tempers field. 
Nor yet Klysium's fabled meads of old, 
h idmiiatioo lost, I raptur*d gaz'd. 
When, to tbe sound of dulcet symphonies, 
A dome, by heay'nly workmanship uprait'd, 
Futb like a vrnpoiox from the earth did rise j 
No briek nor marble did compose the wall, 
Tnusparent twas throughout, for it was crystal all. 

Forthwith two foldiog-doon disclosing wide 

Discorer'd to the eye a gosgeous thiooe, 

A TeneraUe pertHiage on eaoli side ; 

Mqeslic this, that soK and beauteoos shone: 

Upheld by turtles sat this happy pair, 

Bteraal Peace and Lores did sport around; 

Pl^tt'riag above did Hymen joyous bear 

IW links in which their mutual hearts were boMndy 

Betoklung )ao% they'd worn this easy cliain, 

'if thus they'd long, O ! very long Qsopmsms. 



On either side the throne a glorious band 
Of personages were mng'd : in the first place 
And nearest to the king, did Wisdom stand. 
And Honour, unaoquatnted to the base ; 
Kext Justice, never known to err though blind; 
Vengeatoce and Clemency on either side ; ^^ 
And Pow'r, his eyes en ^uslice still Indin'd ; 
And Peace, spuraiog Ambition, Death, and Pride: 
Well is, I weet, the king who's thus upheld, [wield. 
Well is the land whose sceptre such a king doth 

Nor did there qp the other side, I ween. 

Forms though more soft, less heav'niy appear ; 

CoDJogai Love and Ooooord still were seen, 

Beooming Meekness and Submission near ; 

Next Truth, a window in her naked breast. 

Modesty and Prudence ever judging 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 be possess'd of such a bride'^) 



While on this venerable pair I gaz'd 
Enter'd a band of youth, jojroos and gay. 
One 'bove tbe rest most worthy to be prais*d. 
Who follow'd slill where virtue led the way; 
Oft-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, [stemm^. 
Which fraught with all his wishes tow'rd him 
An heav'niy maiden on the deck was plac'd, 
With ev'ry virtue blest, with ev'ry beauty grae'd. 

White were her robes, which so divinely shinM 
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 tipt with pleasure, constancy, 'and truth. 
Found hi% admission to their inmost hearts ; 
Swift flew the youth, with eager haste conveyed. 
To his own happy shore, the much^Iov'dy loving 
maid. 



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M6 



CAMBRIDGE'S POEMS. 



And nbw adTanoe in hospitable piut 
The royal pair ; with welcome salotaiion 
Tbey greet the maid ; joy sparkles id her eyes, 
Promise of future blessings on the nation : 
Nor now did Hymen anemploy'd appear, 
Their hearts in chains of adamant be bound. 
Loud shouts of mirth and joy invade the ear, 
Each echo pleas'd repeats the blithsom sonnd; 
I, sleeping as I lay, in rapture cry'd 
*' Long live the happy prince ! long, live the 

teous bride!" 
In flowing robes and squared caps advance, 
Pallas their guide, her ever-favour'd band ; 
As 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'gla480iki sounds which from each quarter ring. 
Dispel my slumbers, and my trance destroy. 
Waking, I beard the shouts on ev'ry side 
Proclaim Augusta fiurthe happy Freiderio's bride! 



MISCELLANEOUS VERSES, 

warrntM at 

WHITMINSTER, 

rtOM 1742 TO 1750. 

• LEARNING: 

4k niALOCUl BBTWEBN 

*^' . DICK AND NED, 

(tHB AUTHOa, AWD Da. anWAKD BAaNAaO, AFTia- 
WARD8 PSOVOST OP BTOM.) 

Thb day was sullen, bleak, and wet. 

When Dick and Ned together met 

To waste it in a friendly chat. 

And much they talk'd of this and that; 

Till many a question wisely stated. 

And many a knotty point tiebated. 

From topic still to topic turning. 

They fall at length on books and learning : 

Then each with eagerness displays 

His eloquence, to give them praise. 

Far in their eulngy they lanch. 

And scan them o'er in ev'ry branch ; 

Thus, th' excellencies makmg known 

Of learning, slyly show their own. 

Here Dick (who often takes a pride 

To argue on the weaker side) 

Cries, " Softly, Ned, this talk of learning 

May hold ^th men in books discerning ; 

Who boast of what they call a taste. 

But for all else we run too fieist ; 

For lay but prejudice aside. 

And let the cause be fairly try'd, 

What is the worth of any thing. 

But for the happiness twill bring } 

And that, none ever would dispute, 

Is only found in the pursuit ; 

Tor if you once run down yonr game, 

Yott fiustrata and destroy your aim : 



He, without doubt, pray mark me, Vtdg 

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, 

Stirr'd by this argument to speak. 

Full aptly cry'd, " With half an eye 

Yonr fer-fetcht sophistry I spy ; 

Which, ne'er so subtlely disputed, 

By two plain words shall be confuted : 

To give your reasoning due digestion, 

I fifst affirm you beg the question. 

Learning's a game, which, who attains, 

A great and worthy pleasure gains ; 

Not light and transient like the chase. 

But stable with unfading grace. 

There 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 histories. 

As men pursue a common mistress. 

Who when once caught but moves their loathing. 

And well if she's not worse than nothing ; 

But those of steady, serious life, 

Know there 's no pleasure like a wife. 

And such the wise true learning find 

A lasting help-mate to their mind.'' — 

" Good sir," quoth Dick, and made a leg, 

** I say 'tis you the question beg. 

Your similics of wife and mistress 

Will serve your argument to distren. 

If knowledge never was attained. 

Which sages always have maintain'd. 

Then knowledge cannot be a wife ; 

And you you